L: 


THE 


SONS   OF   GODWIN 


A  TRAGEDY. 


BY 

WILLIAM   LEIGHTON,  JR. 


*  There's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends. 
Rough-hew  them  how  we  will." 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  &   CO. 

1877. 


Copyright,  1876,  by  WILLIAM  LEIGHTON,  JR. 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS. 


EDWARD  THE  THIRD,  of  the  Saxon  line,  King  of  England. 
HARALD  HARDRADA,  King  of  Norway. 
EARL  HAROLD,  afterward  king, 


EARL  TOSTIG, 


Sons  of  Godwin. 


EARL  GURTH, 

EARL  MORKAR. 

ALDRED,  Archbishop  of  York. 

STIGAND,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

GUTHLAC,  a  thane. 

MOLLO,  a  minstrel. 

OSBALD,  a  messenger. 

HUGH  MARGOT,  a  Norman  priest. 

SEXWULF,  a  Saxon  slave. 

Messengers  from  Exeter,  Sandwich,  and  Hastings. 

Thanes,  priests,  English  soldiers,  Norwegian  soldiers,  attendants, 

guards,  servants,  etc. 

THE  COUNTESS  GYTHA,  widow  of  Earl  Godwin. 
THE  LADY  EDITH. 
An  Abbess. 
Saxon  women. 


Time  of  the  drama,  A.D.  1065-6. 

3 


2062129 


THE  SONS  OF  GODWIN. 


THE  SONS  OF  GODWIN. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I.— LONDON. 

An  antechamber  in  the  house  of  EARL  HAROLD. 

GUTHLAC  and  MOLLO. 

9 

MOLLO. 

Most  noble  thane,  I  would  not  push  myself, 

So  well  I  know  my  insignificance, 

Into  your  thoughts,  but  that  I  plainly  see 

In  the  dark  sombreness  of  your  grave  face, 

The  fitful  flashing  of  your  eagle  eye, 

The  furious  champing  of  your  long  moustache, 

That  weighty  matter  fills  your  valiant  breast ; 

And  though  a  gleeman  I,  unknown  to  fame, 

I  fain  would  find  some  grand  and  swelling  theme 

On  which  my  song  may  soar  to  fame's  renown  j 

For,  little  as  I  am,  I  sigh  for  fame, 

The  poet's  fame,  the  glory  of  the  bard  \ 


8  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  i. 

So,  mighty  Guthlac,  let  me  have  your  thought, 
That  both  may  live  heroic  through  all  time, 
The  poet-minstrel  and  the  warrior-thane. 

GUTHLAC. 

A  saucy  laugher,  naming  thus  yourself, 
Although  ceorl-born,  before  you  name  a  thane — 
Despite  your  folly  and  your  laughing  sneers, 
The  stuff  my  thought  is  made  of  might  indeed 
Yield  to  the  minstrel  fitting  theme  of  song : 
I  thought  of  Gryffyth,  Cymry's  dragon-king, 
Whom  late  we  tracked  to  his  wild  mountain  crags, 
And  brought  to  bay  where  eagle  aeries  perch, 
Bathed  in  the  moisture  of  the  floating  clouds. 

MOLLO. 

0  aye ;  you  were  with  Harold  in  his  wars, 

And  leaped  like  Welsh  goat  on  steep  Penmaen-mawr ; 

1  bow  to  the  brave  hero,  whose  great  shouts 
Frighted  the  eagles  from  their  Cymrian  cliffs. 

GUTHLAC. 

Scoffer,  brave  fight  the  gallant  Welsh  king  made, 
And  died  at  bay,  as  dies  the  mountain  bear, 
Destroying  his  destroyers.     Our  great  earl, 
Victor  alike  on  sea,  on  lowland  plain, 


SCENE  I.]          The  Sons  of  Godwin.  9 

Or  high  in  air  among  the  cloudy  cliffs, 
Wise  as  Earl  Godwin,  and  as  Tostig  brave, 
Himself  declared,  though  England's  weal  required 
The  Welshman's  death,  his  grand  heroic  end 
In  festal  halls  should  England's  minstrels  sing. 

MOLLO. 

List  while  I  frame  my  verse  to  this  great  theme ; 
Inspired  by  Polyhymnia  I  will  sing. 

To  the  music  of  his  harp  MOLLO  chants  the  fol- 
lowing verses  : 

Penmaen-mawr  is  tinged  with  blue, 
Gleaming  in  the  sky's  bright  hue, 
Piercing  mists  and  cloudlets  through, 
Vastly  grand. 

Shouts  resound  amid  the  skies ; 
Craggy  cliffs  reflect  wild  cries ; 
Shrieking,  loud  an  eagle  flies 
Far  away ; 

What  affrights  the  feathered  king  ? 

What  alarums  loudly  ring 

Round  the  crags  while  banners  fling 

Wide  their  folds  ? 
A* 


io  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  i. 

See  the  spear-points  shining  bright; 
On  broad  axe-heads  gleams  the  light ; 
Harold  climbs  with  Saxon  might 
Cymry's  hold. 

In  the  wildest  spot  of  all, 
Highest  peak  of  mountains  tall, 
Rugged  rocks,  his  fortress-wall, 

Gryflyth  stands. 

Once  his  race  possessed  the  land, 
Valleys,  plains  and  mountains  grand ; 
To  the  sea  on  either  hand 

All  was  theirs. 

First  the  conquering  Roman  came ; 
Then  the  spoiling  Pict  and  Dane ; 
Last  the  Saxon  from  the  main 

Landed  here. 

Robbed  of  all  his  wide  domains, 
Driven  from  fair  vales  and  plains, 
Naught  of  all  to  him  remains 

But  these  crags. 

Yes,  he  has  his  freedom  still, 
Dauntless  heart  and  iron  will 
Never  servile  place  to  fill; 

These  are  his. 


SCENE  i.]          The  Sons  of  Godwin.  \  \ 

As  they  track  the  savage  bear 
Growling  to  his  mountain  lair, 
Hedge  him  round  and  slay  him  there, 
Gryffyth  fell. 


Let  the  bards  his  story  tell : 
How  a  British  hero  fell, 
He,  whom  Death  alone  could  quell, 
Gryffyth  brave. 

GUTHLAC. 

'Twas  a  brave  end ;  but  this  is  not  the  song 
Your  minstrelsy  should  raise  in  Harold's  halls — 
Harold,  the  vanquisher  of  Cymry's  king ; 
Such  poesy  will  bring  you  no  reward 
Unless  you  sing  it  on  high  Penmaen-mawr, 
Where  some  poor  Welshman,  passion-stirred  by  it, 
May  bind  your  brow  with  odoriferous  leeks. 
A  servant  of  this  house  should  bid  his  muse 
Sing  not  the  death-songs  of  retreating  kings, 
But  the  bold  music  of  advancing  chiefs, 
Of  Brythnoth,  slayer  of  the  Danish  jarl, 
Of  sea-king  Wulfnoth,  the  brave  Childe  of  Sussex, 
Of  Godwin,  father  of  a  mighty  race, 
Of  Harold,  guardian  genius  of  the  land, 
Of  Tostig,  fearing  neither  man  nor  fiend, 


12  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  i. 

Of  Leofwine  who  laughs  amid  the  battle, 
Of  Gurth,  the  true— 

MOLLO. 

Of  Guthlac,  poet-warrior. 

GUTHLAC. 

Nay,  minstrel :  these  great  names  on  flood  of  song 
Will  grandly  sail  far  down  the  stream  of  Time, 
Awakening  echoes  on  its  sounding  shores 
When  such  as  yours  and  mine  forgotten  sleep. 

MOLLO. 
You  should  have  been  a  minstrel. 

GUTHLAC. 

Yes,  perhaps. 

MOLLO. 
I  took  my  theme  of  Gryffyth  from  your  lips. 

GUTHLAC. 

Then  'twas  the  poet,  not  the  soldier,  spoke. 
Pshaw !     Saxon  and  Cymrian — 'tis  to  match 
A  kingly  lion  with  a  mountain  cat, 
An  eagle  with  a  kite — 


SCENE  i.]          The  Sons  of  Godwin.  13 

Enter  EARL  GURTH. 

Welcome,  my  Lord. 

GURTH. 

Fair  greeting  to  you,  brave  and  honest  Guthlac. 
My  brother — is  he  here  ? 

GUTHLAC. 

He  is,  my  Lord — 

Pardon ;  I  see  grave  import  in  your  face  : 
If  you  have  news  from  court  that  may  be  told 
To  one  who  hath  the  English  weal  at  heart, 
To  one,  the  leal  adherent  of  your  house, 
I  ask  your  tidings. 

GURTH. 

None  more  leal  than  Guthlac. 
Yet  this  same  news  that  makes  my  features  grave, 
Event  of  import  to  all  Englishmen, 
Is  common  property  to  every  ear : 
Edward  the  ^Etheling  to-day  is  dead. 

Exit  EARL  GURTH  across. 

GUTHLAC. 
The  ^Etheling  dead ! 


!4  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  i. 

MOLLO. 

You  do  purse  up  your  lips, 
Great  Guthlac ;  is  it  sorrow  ? 

GUTHLAC. 

Nay  indeed, 

Not  sorrow.     Though  a  prince  of  Cerdic's  line, 
And  son  of  valiant  Edmund  Ironside, 
True  Saxon  hero  and  brave  English  king, 
Yet  this  dead  ^Etheling  was  not  a  hero. 
While  yet  a  child  King  Canute  banished  him, 
And  thus  he  ever  lived  a  foreign  man, 
Until,  advanced  in  years,  our  king  recalled, 
And  purposed  making  him  the  kingdom's  heir: 
A  purpose  thwarted  by  the  King  of  kings, 
That  England's  ruler,  when  Saint  Edward  dies, 
May  be  a  hero  and  true  Englishman, 
To  guard  the  soil,  and  drive  the  Norman  forth, 
A  Saxon  monarch  though  not  Cerdic's  line. 

<•  • 
MOLLO. 

Amen  to  that,  all  Saxon  England  cries, 
Ealdorman,  thane,  the  ceorl,  even  the  slave — 
And  I,  a  gleeman. 


SCENE  i.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  15 

Enter  SEXWULF,  who  bows  awkwardly  to  GUTHLAC. 

GUTHLAC. 

Wherefore  come  you  here  ? 

SEXWULF. 
Most  noble  Sir,  it  is  to  see  the  Earl. 

MOLLO,  bowing  very  low. 
Rest  you  well,  fair  Sir. 

SEXWULF,  bowing  stiffly. 
And  you.     (Aside.}    It  is  a  gleeman. 

MOLLO. 

Great  Guthlac,  you  are  king  unto  this  Sir ; 
Lo !  how  he  scorns  the  gleeman !  all  unmindful 
That  poesy  hath  power  to  lift  a  minstrel 
Up  to  the  level  of  a  line  of  kings. 

GUTHLAC. 

Or  folly  hath.    (To  SEXWULF.)  Know  you,  Sir  Knave, 

the  Earl 
Grants  not  his  audience  to  every  theow. 


1 6  T/te  Sons  of  Godwin,  [ACT  i. 

SEXWULF. 

Most  noble  Sir,  I  pray  you  give  me  leave— 

SEXWULF  comes  close  to  GUTHLAC,  shows  him  a 
letter  secretly,  and  whispers. 

Greeting  from  Lady  Edith  to  Earl  Harold. 

GUTHLAC  (aside). 
A  most  rude  envoy  from  a  .most  fair  lady. 

MOLLO. 

Are  you  indeed  an  Earl  in  low  disguise, 
That  noble  Guthlac  listens  to  your  whisper  ? 

GUTHLAC. 

Beware,  Sir  Gleeman  !  with  the  Earl  you  trifle, 
Daring  to  trifle  with  his  messenger. 

MOLLO,  bowing  to  SEXWULF. 
I  humbly  bow  to  Greatness  in  disguise. 

GUTHLAC. 

Follow  me,  theow ;  Earl  Gurth  is  with  my  Lord, 
And  by-and-by  you  shall  have  audience. 

Exeunt,  MOLLO  still  bowing  with  mock  solemnity 
to  SEXWULF. 


SCENE  ii.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin. 


SCENE    II.— LONDON. 

An  apartment  in  the  house  of  EARL  HAROLD.     A  table 
with  papers,  maps,  plans,  etc. 

EARL  HAROLD  and  EARL  GURTH. 

GURTH. 

It  seems  but  yesterday,  though  five  months  past, 
When,  with  the  honors  due  his  high  descent, 
We  welcomed  home  this  son  of  Ironside. 
With  eager  eyes  I  scanned  his  features  o'er, 
The  face  of  him  who  might  be  England's  king, 
To  mark  if  Nature's  kingly  stamp  were  there. 
I  looked  in  vain  for  aught  of  majesty ; 
A  weak,  pale,  anxious,  sad,  dejected  face. 
I  heard  his  querulous  voice  impatient  ask,    , 
How  long  the  ceremonial  of  reception 
And  all  the  tedious  formularies  would  last ; 
He  came  not  like  a  monarch  to  his  realm, 
But  as  a  sick  man  to  a  hospital ; 
Then  well  I  knew  that  narrow  brow  too  weak 
To  hold  the  dignity  of  England's  crown  ; 
Beneath  such  feeble  rule  as  his  had  been, 
England's  broad  bosom  had  been  torn  with  broils; 
B  2* 


1 8  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  i. 

Nor  even  Harold's  steadfast  arm  and  brain 
Kept  the  weak  sceptre  of  such  languid  king 
From  trailing  in  the  dust.     His  timely  death, 
Clearing  the  pathway  for  a  better  king, 
Will  save  the  realm  much  ruinous  disorder, 
Although  for  England  fails  great  Cerdic's  line. 

HAROLD. 
His  son  yet  lives,  the  heir  to  England's  throne. 

GURTH. 

Edgar  the  ^Etheling  is  but  a  boy, 

Too  young  and  much  too  feeble  in  his  mind 

To  bear  the  burden  of  our  island-crown. 

HAROLD. 

Yet  he  is  heir  by  lineal  descent. 

i 

GURTH. 

Nay,  Harold,  not  alone  by  lineage 
Do  England's  kings  possess  the  regal  crown ; 
Fitness  to  rule,  the  people's  confidence, 
Choice  in  the  council  of  the  ealdormen, 
Concurring,  give  a  ruler  to  the  state. 
Edward  the  Elder,  dying,  left  two  sons, 
Edmund  and  Edred,  both  legitimate  ; 
• 


SCENE  ii.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  19 

Yet,  by  a  choice  in  the  witena-gemot  given, 
The  bastard  ^Ethelstan  received  the  crown : 
He  was  succeeded  by  his  lawful  heir ; 
But  after  Edmund,  Edred  was  the  king, 
Passing  the  claims  of  Edwin,  Edmund's  son. 

HAROLD. 

'Tis  true  that  custom  hath  passed  by  such  heirs, 
And  England's  ealdormen  can  make  a  king. 

GURTH. 

Brother,  the  king  grows  weaker,  mind  and  hand ; 
Day  after  day  his  vital  force  is  sapped ; 
Nor  all  the  relics  of  the  blessed  saints, 
Gathered  from  far  and  near  at  England's  cost 
By  our  saint-king,  can  work  the  miracle 
To  far  prolong  his  life :  and  England  sees 
The  end  approaching  of  this  monarch's  reign  ; 
The  end  approaching  of  this  kingly  line ; 
And  rests  content :  nor  dreads  the  Norman  Duke, 
Nor  fears  the  war-ships  of  the  Danish  king — 
And  why  content  ?     Because  the  people  look 
To  you,  my  brother,  at  King  Edward's  death 
To  hold  secure  and  firm  the  English  state. 
Our  present  monarch  is  a  thing  of  form ; 
All  are  content  to  yield  him  majesty, 


20  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  i. 

But  look  to  you  when  England  needs  a  king 
For  the  strong  arm  to  battle  with  her  foes, 
The  prudent  head  to  frame  fit  policy* 

HAROLD. 

If  I  might  better  serve  ray  native  land 
By  placing  on  this  young  boy's  brow  the  crown, 
As  our  wise  father  crowned  the  present  king, 
No  vain  ambition  would  prevent,  nor  lust 
Of  royal  state  make  me  usurp  his  place. 

GURTH, 

The  choice  is  not  with  you  ;  the  ealdormen 

Will  never  crown  this  youthful  ^Etheling. 

The  realm  of  England — shall  it  be  a  pawn 

To  play  and  lose  for  such  a  king  as  he  ; 

A  child  to  play  it  too  ?    At  Edward's  death 

To  you  must  come  the  proffer  of  the  crown ; 

The  Saxons  know  you  as  the  wisest  son 

Of  great  Earl  Godwin  ;  Danes  remember  you 

Descended  through  our  mother  from  a  line 

Of  Danish  sea-kings;  Saxons,  Danes,  alike 

Throughout  all  England,  see  no  other  chief 

Than  Harold,  skilled  to  lead  by  land  or  sea, 

Whose  arms  adventurous  ne'er  have  known  defeat : 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  21 

No  Englishman  like  him,  dear  to  the  hearts 
Of  all,  thane-born  or  lowly  ceorl. 

HAROLD. 

O  Gurth, 

I  never  felt  our  father's  death  as  now. 
Would  he  were  still  alive  to  wear  this  crown  ! 
How  proudly  we,  his  sons,  would  stand  by  him, 
Buttress  his  throne  with  faithful  hearts  and  hands, 
Making  fair  England  the  most  prosperous  land 
Beneath  the  sky  !     His  careful  policy, 
Our  arms  victorious,  borne  by  fame  abroad, 
Had  scared  invasion  from  our  guarded  shores. 

GURTH. 

Harold,  our  father  lives  again  in  you  ; 
You  have  his  wisdom,  valor,  and  inherit 
All  the  renown  they  yielded  in  his  life ; 
You  have  beyond  our  father  England's  love, 
And,  as  he  had  the  duty  of  his  sons, 
You  have  the  constant  love  and  faithful  service 
Of  Gurth  and  Leofwine,  although,  alas ! 
Little  they  bring  you  but  devoted  love. 

HAROLD. 
Never  had  man  two  wiser,  braver  brothers, 


22  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  i. 

Dear  Gurth,  than  you  and  Leofwine.     Alone 
I  could  not  hope,  as  now,  to  make  safe  way 
In  camp  and  court  through  all  impediment. 
Certain,  amid  the  slippery  faiths  of  men, 
That  two  are  sure,  I  have  a  triple  strength. 

GURTH. 

Our  hearts  and  acts  are  yours ;  you  are  the  head, 
And  we  the  limbs,  the  servants  of  its  will. 
You  will  be  king ;  our  father,  ere  he  died, 
Foresaw  the  English  crown  upon  your  head, 
And  bade  your  brothers  be  leal  men  to  you, 
Head  of  our  house  and  of  the  English  realm. 
Our  banished  Sweyn  is  lost  to  you  and  England  ; 
Wolnoth,  a  hostage  with  the  Norman  Duke  ; 
Tostig,  an  erring  slave  of  his  own  passions  ; 
But  Leofwine  is  true,  and  Gurth  is  leal. 

HAROLD. 

My  faithful  Gurth  !  but  naming  Sweyn  and  Tostig 
Calls  up  a  sorrow  heavy  in  my  heart ; 
Sweyn  "s  fate  is  sealed ;  an  irrevocable  shame, 
Alas  !  blots  out  his  name ;  Tostig,  I  fear, 
Will  err  as  rashly,  and  as  sadly  fall : 
He  has  no  thought  for  England,  all  for  self; 
His  earldom  but  the  means  to  gratify 

t 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  23 

Passion,  self-glory,  a  licentious  will 

That  grasps  at  all.     Pray  Heaven  it  send  to  him 

A  better  angel  to  defeat  the  fiends 

That  battle  for  his  soul ! 

GURTH. 

Our  brother  Wolnoth,  long  detained  at  Rouen 
Against  the  king's  request  and  frequent  message, 
Is  his  fond  mother's  grief;  with  tearful  eyes 
She  questions  every  Norman  messenger 
For  news  of  him.     May  we  not  find  the  means 
To  win  her  darling  back  to  her  once  more  ? 

HAROLD. 

Wolnoth  at  Rouen  holds  anomalous  place. 

As  hostage  for  his  father's  plighted  faith 

With  our  King  Edward,  sent  to  Normandy 

Because  Earl  Godwin  was  all-powerful  here, 

And  Norman  William,  Edward's  friend  and  cousin, 

Our  father's  death  should  have  set  free  his  pledge; 

But  William's  policy  retains  him  still, 

In  guise  of  friendship,  but  in  fact  a  check 

Upon  his  kinsmen,  none  the  less  a  hostage 

Because  he  seems  a  favorite  of  the  Duke, 

And  held  in  silken  bonds. 


24  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  i. 

Enter  GUTHLAC,  ushering  the  LADY  GYTHA. 

GUTHLAC. 

The  Lady  Gytha. 

Exit  GUTHLAC. 
HAROLD. 
My  mother — 

GURTH. 
My  dear  mother — 

GYTHA. 

Harold,  my  son, 
Pride  of  our  house. 

GURTH. 
And  what  am  I,  dear  mother? 

GYTHA. 
No  less  than  Harold  your  fond  mother's  pride. 

HAROLD. 

But  your  attendants,  mother,  where  are  they ; 
A  sea-king's  daughter  goes  not  unattended  ? 

GYTHA. 
I  bade  them  wait  me  in  the  antechamber. 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  25 

HAROLD. 


Pray,  mother,  sit. 


GYTHA. 


Nay,  Harold,  not  as  guest,  but  suppliant, 
I  come  to  you.     Oh,  see  me  on  my  knees. 

HAROLD,  raising  GYTHA. 

My  mother,  rise ;  nor  kneel  unto  your  son, 
Whose  place  is  at  your  feet,  not  you  at  his. 

GYTHA. 

Harold,  my  widowed  heart  is  full  of  grief. 
No  English  mother  hath  such  sons  as  mine, 
Then  why  should  I  be  sad  ?    Your  glory,  Harold, 
Is  dear  to  me  as  was  your  father's  fame ; 
Above  all  Englishmen  my  Harold  towers, 
And  soon,  I  know,  his  head  will  wear  a  crown ; 
Gurth,  Leofwine  and  Tostig  all  are  earls ; 
But  Wolnoth,  ah  !  is  exiled  from  his  land 
And  from  his  mother's  arms.     O  Harold,  Gurth, 
I  think  of  you,  and  swells  my  heart  with  pride, 
Of  Wolnoth,  and  my  pride  is  drowned  in  tears; 
Why  are  you  placed  so  high,  and  he  exiled  ? 
B  3 


26  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  i. 


HAROLD. 

Mother,  you  know  how  oft  at  my  request 
The  king  hath  sent  to  call  my  brother  back. 

GYTHA. 

Harold,  in  England  what  you  will  is  law, 
The  monk-king's  sceptre  but  a  gilded  toy ; 
Had  you  your  mother's  heart  you  would  reclaim, 
Despite  refusal,  my  long-exiled  son, 
Thus  held  from  his  ancestral  place  and  honors, 
From  home  and  arms  of  fond,  maternal  love. 
His  father's  death  should  have  set  free  my  boy. 
Hath  he  no  brothers,  that  he  pines  in  chains  ? 
Or  is  a  Norman  Duke  too  high  to  question  ? 

GURTH. 

Mother,  the  Duke  in  Normandy  is  king, 
And  Wolnoth  wears  no  chains. 

GYTHA. 

Gurth,  iron  gyves 

May  gall  the  limbs,  but  fettered  liberty 
Chafes  inwardly.     Wolnoth  may  wear  the  smile 
That  lighted  up  the  face  of  Sparta's  boy 
When  the  fox  ate  his  heart.     My  friendless  son  ! 


SCENE  ii.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  27 

Thus  would  your  mother  act  were  she  Earl  Harold  : 
Send  the  war-arro\vs  over  all  the  land, 
Launch  the  long  war-ships,  cross  the  narrow  seas, 
And  rouse  Duke  William  in  his  Norman  court 
With  the  bold  music  of  your  sea-king  sires. 

HAROLD. 

Now  speaks  the  fiery  blood  of  bearded  jarls ; 
Mother,  you  are  true  daughter  of  the  Dane. 

GYTHA. 

O  Harold,  I  have  waited  year  on  year 

And  bade  my  heart  be  still,  for  he  would  come, 

At  last  would  come  unto  my  longing  arms ; 

But  the  years  pass,  and  yet  he  doth  not  come, 

And  still  I  strive  to  wait  most  patiently, 

Till  patience  dies  within  my  aching  heart; 

And  now  I  come  to  ask  my  kingly  son 

To  give  his  mother  back  her  exiled  son. 

My  Harold,  you  are  wise ;  o'er  all  the  land 

Your  wisdom  and  your  valor  are  the  shield, 

And  England  sleeps  secure  beneath  its  aegis. 

The  wretched  ceorl  seeks  from  you  redress 

Of  wrong  or  scath ;  your  wisdom  and  your  power 

Pluck  down  oppression,  give  him  back  his  own  ; 

Your  mother  seeks  redress  for  a  great  wrong : 


28  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  I. 

Her  child  is  kept  from  her  maternal  breast. 

Shall  the  base  peasant  have  your  ready  aid, 

And  not  your  mother?     Give  me  Wolnoth,  Harold  ; 

She  asks  you  this  who  gave  to  you  your  life, 

And,  with  your  life,  your  wisdom  and  your  valor. 

HAROLD. 

My  mother,  all  I  am  and  have  is  yours ; 
To  win  back  Wolnoth  I  would  give  my  life. 

GYTHA. 

Ah  no,  son  Harold  !  though  my  bosom  aches 
To  clasp  to  it  my  youngest  child  again, 
Yet  never  let  me  see  my  darling  more 
Sooner  than  purchase  him  by  loss  of  you. 
What  I  would  have  you  do,  is  trust  no  more 
To  the  vain  hope  that  Edward's  messengers 
Can  bring  your  brother  to  us ;  you  must  act : 
How,  your  own  wisdom  is  the  safest  guide, 
Nor  dare  I  offer  counsel.     Harold,  promise 
That  this  one  thought,  how  to  restore  my  son, 
Shall  have  precedence  of  all  other  matter 
And  promptest  execution  in  your  acts. 

HAROLD. 
I  promise  it,  my  mother ;  and  a  project, 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  29 

Often  revolved  and  weighed  within  my  mind, 
Shall  speedily  set  forward  :   I  will  go, 
Not  with  my  war-ships,  but  as  peaceful  guest, 
And  bring  our  Wolnoth  from  the  Norman  court. 

GURTH. 

You  go  to  Normandy  as  William's  guest ! 
I  see  not  in  this  plan  the  wise  foresight 
Of  shrewd  Earl  Godwin's  son. 

GYTHA. 

Placing  yourself 

Unhostaged  in  the  power  of  this  bold  Norman 
Will  lose  me  both  my  sons. 

HAROLD. 

I  think  not  so; 

What  would  Duke  William  gain,  retaining  me? 
I  am  too  great  to  keep  me  as  a  hostage, 
And  he  hath  two  already ;  nor  my  death 
Would  bring  advantage  to  him ;  I  may  win 
His  friendship,  make  alliance  with  his  power. 
Truly  he  hath  the  fame  of  courtesy, 
And  knightly  honor  is  his  darling  theme, 
Nor  hath  he  object,  nor  could  find  excuse, 
To  stay  or  injure  a  confiding  guest. 


30  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  i. 

GURTH. 

A  firm  alliance  of  our  house  with  William 
Hath  show  of  wisdom  in  it;  but  'tis  bold 
To  test  an  untried  magnanimity. 

GYTHA. 

I  trust  your  wisdom,  for  you  are  not  rash  ; 
I  trust  your  promise,  for  I  know  you,  true ; 
And  I  shall  have  my  Wolnoth. 

HAROLD. 

Nay,  my  mother ; 

The  fate  of  man  is  in  the  womb  of  .Time, 
And  rash  is  he  who  dares  to  say  I  will — 
But  the  best  efforts  of  my  mind  and  hands 
I  promise  you,  to  win  my  brother  back, 
Nor  shall  I  now  be  idle. 

GYTHA. 

Thanks,  dear  son. 

Gurth,  come  with  me.     Am  I  not  like  a  queen 
When  I  have  earls  that  kindly  wait  on  me  ? 

HAROLD. 
Your  blessing,  mother.     (Kneels.} 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  31 

GYTHA. 

Angels  shield  you,  son, 

To  build  yet  higher  your  great  father's  house ; 
To  be  the  mighty  warden  of  the  land — 
And  give  you  happiness. 

HAROLD. 

Farewell,  my  mother, 
Nor  ever  think  me  lukewarm  in  your  cause. 

Exeunt  GYTHA  and  GURTH. 

The  Norman  Duke  hath  gathered  at  his  court 

Learning  and  arts,  the  progress  of  the  world ; 

Whatever  may  be  culled  out  of  the  past, 

Or  wrought  by  patient  labor  in  the  present. 

In  untrained  nature  slumber  inert  powers, 

Waiting  the  hand  of  genius  to  bring  forth 

Their  latent  might ;  or,  lacking  that,  they  grow 

In  the  warm  light  of  fair  prosperity 

As  young  plants  grow.     One  larger  mind,  advanced 

Beyond  the  rest,  may  bring  their  progress  on 

As  cultivation  makes  of  languishing  plants 

A  fruitful  harvest.     Rumor  fills  my  ears, 

With  every  south  wind,  how  Duke  William  builds 

Stronger  his  state ;  how  artisan  and  soldier, 

The  troubadour  with  spirit-stirring  songs, 


32  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  I. 

The  scholar  with  his  rolls  of  parchment  lore, 
All  find  a  welcome  at  his  court,  and  each 
A  patient  pupil  in  this  famous  Duke ; 
While  all  their  several  arts  he  welds  together 
Into  new  forms  of  power  to  strengthen  him. 
The  Pyrrhic  phalanx  and  the  Roman  legion 
Afford  him  studies ;  to  their  art  he  adds 
New  forms  of  discipline,  till  joined  as  one, 
And  animate  with  but  a  single  thought, 
His  army  moves ;  the  single  thought  his  own. 
His  skillful  artisans  have  fashioned  arms 
With  curious  craft,  and  practice  betters  them. 
What  have  we  here  to  match  him,  if  perchance 
He  deems  his  cousinship  deserves  a  throne  ? 
Our  Englishmen  have  courage,  little  skill, 
No  patient  training  in  the  arts  of  war ; 
We  fight  as  fought  our  sires  of  long  ago, 
With  the  same  weapons  and  rude  forms  of  war. 
The  Roman  crushed  the  Briton,  brave  as  he, 
By  force  of  discipline  and  better  arms ; 
Our  Saxon  fathers  won  this  English  soil 
Because  more  practiced  and  inured  to  war 
Than  peaceful  villagers  grown  dull  by  sloth  ; 
And  now  the  Norman,  trained  in  martial  skill, 
May  overmatch  the  stronger  Englishman 
If  England  slothful  sleeps.     Valor  and  strength 


SCENE  ii.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  33 

Will  arm  the  Saxon  hero's  hand  in  vain 

If  he  must  fight  at  every  disadvantage 

And  fall  by  strategy.     Valor  and  strength 

Are  simply  brutal  parts ;  the  lion  claims 

His  kingly  share  of  these,  but  yields  to  man 

His  savage  life  when  the  sharp  javelin 

Or  flying  arrow  pierces  his  great  heart, 

And  intellect  is  victor  over  strength. 

Duke  William's  power  is  brain.     To  Normandy, 

Thus  called,  I  must  perforce  adventure  me  ; 

See  all  the  wonders  bruited  over  seas ; 

Study  the  master-spirit  of  the  land ; 

Win  him,  if  possible,  for  England's  friend : 

Or,  failing  this,  returned  again  with  Wolnoth, 

Train  English  armies  into  Norman  skill.  Exit. 


B* 


34  The  Sons  of  Godivin.  [ACT  I. 

SCENE  III.— LONDON. 

The  house  of  the  LADY  EDITH. 
Enter  EDITH  and  EARL  HAROLD. 

EDITH. 

My  Lord,  I  thank  you  for  remembering 
Our  distant  kinship,  thus  at  once  to  answer 
My  hasty  message. 

HAROLD. 

Do  not  say  our  kinship — 
Edith,  it  is  remembrance  of  our  kinship, 
Although  that  kindred  be  a  distant  one, 
And  cousinship  .through  two  removes  of  blood, 
That  ever  haunts  me,  shining  in  your  eyes, 
Staying  the  words  unuttered  on  my  lips. 

EDITH. 
,My  Lord,  you  speak  impatiently  and  strange. 

HAROLD. 
Say  not  "My  Lord,"  but,  as  of  old  time,  "Harold." 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godivin.  35 

EDITH. 

You  have  become  so  mighty  now,  an  earl, 
And  highest  in  the  land  ;  I  scarcely  dare 
Remember  how  we  were  such  friends  of  old 
That  then  'twas  Cousin  Harold. 

HAROLD. 

Harold  ever 

Let  me  remain  unchanged  in  your  remembrance, 
As  in  delightful  days  of  merry  youth, 
When  our  blithe  hearts  knew  not  that  in  this  life 
Shadows  might  come  between  us  and  our  joys. 

EDITH. 

When  I  recall  those  pleasures,  Cousin  Harold, 
And  the  companionship  of  those  old  days, 
How  gently  and  how  nobly  you  would  share 
My  girlish  fancies,  I  am  proud  indeed 
England  hath  set  you  in  such  high  estate. 

HAROLD. 
Still  "cousin — cousin;"  Edith,  I  hate  the  word  ! 

EDITH. 
Hate  the  relationship  that  makes  me  proud  ? 


36  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  i. 

HAROLD. 

Edith,  I  love  you  as  a  wife,  not  cousin, 
And  the  church  bans  and  interdicts  such  marriage. 
I  long  have  struggled  to  repress  my  love, 
And  closely  shut  my  lips  when  my  wild  words 
Would  have  poured  out  the  passion  of  my  heart, 
Because  such  love  might  be  a  thing  accursed 
By  mitred  prelates  of  our  scrupulous  church; 
But  in  my  heart  the  passion  hath  so  grown 
That  I  am  powerless  to  restrain  its  floods, 
And  needs  must  tell  you,  Edith,  of  my  love. 
"Pis  not  unholy,  such  true  love  as  mine, 
However  frowns  on  it  the  holy  church ; 
For  the  church  grants  indulgencies  ofttimes 
By  which  such  interdiction  is  removed  : 
On  the  which  hope  I  rest  my  happiness, 
Although  King  Edward,  in  his  pious  zeal, 
May  long  withhold  consent  that  we  may  wed. 
I  had  resolved  my  love  should  be  untold 
Until  such  time  as  brighter  promise  dawned ; 
But  now,  departing  from  you  and  from  England, 
My  heart  breaks  thus  the  silence  of  my  lips. 

EDITH. 
Departing  !     Why  and  whither  do  you  go? 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  37 

HAROLD. 

To  Normandy.     My  foremost  purpose  is 
To  claim  the  hostages  my  father  gave 
So  long  ago,  his  pledge  of  faith  to  Edward. 
I  go  as  guest  to  Norman  William's  court ; 
And  though  I  think  my  visit  brings  no  peril, 
Yet  many  anxious  cares  oppress  my  breast, 
Not  cares  for  self,  but  for  the  realm  of  England ; 
While  o'er  my  mind  float  strange,  foreboding  thoughts 
And  vague  presentiments  of  coming  evil. 
Thus,  with  my  heart  o'erclouded,  I  have  dared 
To  utter,  Edith,  words  so  long  repressed, 
To  tell  the  hopes  I  cherish.     If  your  love, 
Pledged  to  my  heart,  can  go,  my  heart's  companion, 
With  me  from  England,  I  shall  go  all  blithely, 
Ready  to  grapple  the  worst  forms  of  evil 
That  can  arise  to  menace  me  or  England ; 
And  the  clouds  moving  darkly  o'er  my  mind 
Will  be  o'erspanned  by  Love's  bright  rainbow-arch. 
Edith,  your  answer;  is  my  hope  in  vain? 

EDITH. 
Nay,  not  in  vain. 

HAROLD. 

So  I  have  dared  believe ; 
For  love  is  watchful  of  the  smallest  things, 

4 


38  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  i. 

And  finds  a  language  in  each  look  and  smile, 
Motion  and  act;  the  pensive,  downcast  eye, 
The  ringing  laugh,  are  words  that  may  be  read 
By  harmless  sorcery  of  anxious  love — 
A  cipher-language,  telling  of  the  heart, 
How  its  pulsations  beat,  while  joy  or  pain 
Writes  its  quick  legend  on  the  changeful  brow. 

EDITH. 

I  did  not  know  my  heart  had  been  thus  read, 
But  since  its  childhood  it  has  beat  for  you ; 
And  while  you  grew  to  greater  fame  and  honor, 
It  still  kept  pace,  and  loved  you  more  and  more ; 
Not  for  your  glory  or  illustrious  name, 
Both  dear  to  me,  nor  that  your  kingly  heart 
And  intellect,  expressed  in  generous  acts, 
Have  set  you  o'er  our  people;  this  would  be 
Fit  cause  for  admiration  and  respect, 
Not  for  such  love  as  mine.     My  childhood's  friend, 
Whose  gentle  hand  gave  ever-ready  help, 
Whose  thoughtful  eyes  looked  heartfelt  sympathies, 
Is  dearest  memory.     That  holy  church 
Should  place  the  cross  between  your  heart  and  mine, 
Was  never  in  my  thought.     If  barred  from  you 
By  ban  and  interdiction,  all  my  heart 
Is  yours,  and  my  most  fervent  prayers  arise 
Daily  to  heaven  to  give  you  happy  fortune. 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  39 

HAROLD. 

No  fortune  happy  if  it  give  not  you — 
I  cannot  say  my  heart  is  yours  alone ; 
Edith,  my  heart  is  plighted  from  my  youth 
To  England  ;  but  no  less  its  wealth  of  love 
For  you  that  England  shares  with  you  its  love. 

EDITH. 

And  I  might  love  you  less  if  less  your  love 
And  grand  devotion  to  your  native  land ; 
Throughout  our  country,  when  I  look  around, 
Earls,  chiefs,  and  thanes  are  struggling  each  for  self, 
All  for  aggrandizement  of  wealth  or  power. 
Alone. of  all,  I  see  you  still  intent 
On  England's  good,  while  even  your  father's  sons 
Are  not  like  you,  dear  Harold,  thus  inspired. 
Your  brother  Tostig — I  am  grieved  to  cast 
A  shadow  on  you  when  I  should  bring  cheer — 

HAROLD. 

Speak,  Edith ;  past  experience  hath  schooled  me 
To  hear  ill  news  of  misdirected  Tostig. 

EDITH. 
Do  you  remember  Cuthbert,  Gunna's  son  ? — 


40  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  i. 

Gunna,  my  Danish  nurse,  who  filled  my  mind, 
In  infancy,  with  all  her  wondrous  lore 
Of  fierce  exploits  of  jarl  and  viking  wild, 
The  frightful  terrors  of  the  weird  wolf-witch, 
The  dread  scin-laeca  over  warriors'  tombs — 
Cuthbert  was  long  ago  your  playmate  too ; 
Do  you  remember  him  ? 

HAROLD. 

Yes,  Edith,  well ; 

Those  pleasant  years  are  stamped  indelible 
Upon  my  heart  in  happy  memories. 
If  I  can  serve  your  Cuthbert,  serving  you 
In  this,  I  serve  myself  as  well  as  you. 

EDITH. 

Our  Cuthbert  served  Northumbria's  great  Earl, 
Old  famous  Siward,  whom  your  brother,  Tostig, 
Succeeded  in  his  earldom.     Cuthbert  loves 
A  virtuous  lady  of  your  brother's  court, 
Elgiva,  in  attendance  on  the  Countess, 
Betrothed  to  Cuthbert,  though  of  higher  birth. 
Your  brother,  envying  poor  Cuthbert's  favor, 
Where,  it  is  said,  his  lawless  fancy  fell, 
Taunted  my  foster-brother  with  his  birth 
Until  he  drove  him  to  some  sharp  reply, 


SCENE  IIL]       The  Sons  of  Godwin.  41 

Then  banished  him  his  court.     He  sent  to  me, — 

His  letter  brought  by  Sexwulf,  a  rude  theow, — 

Asking  my  intercession  with  Earl  Harold, 

To  whom  all  England  looks  for  equity, 

To  cure  his  sad,  his  most  disastrous  fortunes, 

Too  desperate,  I  fear,  for  a  safe  cure, 

For,  when  I  questioned  this  rude  Sexwulf  further, 

I  learned  Earl  Tostig's  men  were  full  in  chase, 

Hunting  my  foster-brother  to  his  death. 

HAROLD. 

This  is  bad  news,  and  comes  perhaps  too  late. 
My  messenger  shall  go  at  once  to  Tostig, 
And  I  will  send  a  troop  in  search  of  Cuthbert; 
If  he  yet  live,  my  friendship  shall  be  his, 
To  smooth,  if  possible,  his  path  of  love, 
And  give  him  his  betrothed. 

EDITH. 

So  ever  speaks 

Your  generous,  kingly  heart.     But  do  not  stay; 
A  single  moment  may  lose  Cuthbert's  life — 
I  must  not  stop  you  even  with  my  thanks. 

Enter  an  attendant. 

ATTENDANT. 

A  gentleman  seeks  audience  of  the  Earl 
With  message  from  the  king. 
4* 


42  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  i. 

HAROLD. 

Who  is  it? 

ATTENDANT. 

Guthlac. 

HAROLD. 

I'll  see  him  presently. 

Exit  attendant. 

My  trustiest  thane 

Is  Guthlac,  and  some  urgent  business  calls 
That  thus  he  seeks  me  here.     Dear  Edith,  thanks, 
My  full  heart's  thanks,  that  you  have  cheered  my  heart 
With  your  bright  sun  of  love.     Whatever  fate 
Hath  in  abeyance  for  me,  fair  or  foul, 
Still  greater  honors  or  the  loss  of  all, 
My  one  great  happiness  must  be  your  love. 
If  the  near  future  hath  for  me  a  crown, 
Which  an  ambitious  eye  would  surely  see, 
My  proudest  hour  will  be  when  England  hails 
My  Edith  as  her  queen.     Farewell. 

Harold  kisses  Edith's  hand,  and  exit. 

EDITH. 

The  one  great  hope,  the  fond,  the  darling  dream 

Of  all  my  life  at  length  is  realized  ; 

For  Harold  loves  me.  Exit. 


ACT  ii.]  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  43 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  L— LONDON. 

An  antechamber  in  the  house  of  EARL  HAROLD.     Table, 
chairs,  and  bench. 

MOLLO  and  OSBALD.     SEXWULF  asleep  on  bench. 

MOLLO. 

I  pray  you  sit,  and  tell  me  more  at  length 

By  what  strange  chance  Thane  Gamel  hath  been  slain 

By  Tostig's  men ;  for  so  I  caught  the  news 

From  Guthlac's  words ;  and,  if  you  love  good  ale, 

Our  cellarer  shall  send  us  here  a  brewage 

Fit  for  a  king.     Ho,  Eric ! 

Enter  a  servant. 

Bring  us  ale. 

Exit  servant. 

OSBALD,  sitting. 

Minstrel,  in  truth  I  am  most  sadly  tired : 

Two  days  and  nights  have  brought  no  restful  sleep, 


44  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  n. 

But  terror,  anxious  thought  and  weary  travel — 
The  last  twelve  hours  in  saddle  without  rest — 
This  tires  a  man.     I'll  try  your  vaunted  ale ; 
In  Nottingham  we  have  a  famous  brewage. 

MOLLO. 

Not  like  the  ale  of  Kent.     Their  London  ale 
I  will  not  boast  of;  but  our  Kentish  ale, 
Sweet,  nut-brown  ale,  crowned  like  the  king  with  pearl, 
And  frothy — as  his  butler.     Ah  !  my  friend, 
If  Jove  had  tasted  it,  he  had  upset 
His  bowls  of  nectar,  and  sent  Ganymede 
To  fetch  him  ale.     See  yonder  northern  theow, 
That  slumbers  on  the  bench  j  he  found  it  good. 

• 

OSBALD. 

Of  Nottingham  is  he? 

MOLLO. 

Sexwulf  his  name ; 

He  brought  Earl  Harold  news  out  of  the  north, 
And,  as  I  think,  owes  service  thereabout, 
In  Mercia,  Nottingham — I  cannot  tell. 
I  thought  to  loose  his  sluggish  tongue  with  ale, 
Our  Kentish  ale ;  he  gaped  and  swallowed  it 
As  thirsty  horse  drinks  water,  but  his  tongue 


SCENE  i.]          The  Sons  of  Godivin.  45 

Would  only  say  the  ale  was  very  good  \ 

The  stupid  swine  would  tell  me  nothing  more, 

And  soon  fell  fast  asleep. 

Enter  servant  with  ale  in  a  jug,  which  MOLLO 
pours  and  presents  to  OSBALD.     Exit  servant. 

Try  this,  my  friend, 

And  never  drink  your  northern  brewage  more, 
But  sigh  regretful  for  the  ale  of  Kent. 

OSBALD  drinks. 

'Tis  good  (drinks').     The  ale  is  good  (drinks).     Yes, 
very  good. 

MOLLO. 

'Tis  what  that  sleeper  said  before  he  slept ; 
I  trust  the  ale  will  not  so  tie  your  tongue  . 
But  that  you  can  deliver  me  the  news 
For  which  you  sacrificed  your  two  nights'  sleep, 
And  took  this  long,  and  doubtless  weary,  ride. 

OSBALD. 

Weary  indeed  !     Right  glad  am  I  'tis  over ; 

I  safely  housed,  and  drinking  this  good  ale  (drinks'). 

MOLLO. 
"Good  ale,"  is  still  what  sleepy  Sexwulf  cried. 


46  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  11. 

OSBALD. 

Well,  you  shall  have  my  story.    'Twas  after  midnight; 
The  household  hushed  in  slumber  most  profound — 

MOLLO. 
What  house,  my  friend  ? 

OSBALD. 

Our  house,  Thane  Camel's  house 
In  Nottingham,  near  Sherwood.     All  asleep ; 
When  on  the  stillness  broke  the  tramp  of  feet, 
A  horse's  hoofs.     It  stops ;  then  comes  a  knocking 
Upon  the  great  hall-door,  locked  for  the  night, 
And  fastened  with  a  bar.     This  roused  up  all. 
I  know  not  how  I  scrambled  to  the  hall, 
But  there  were  all  the  servants  in  alarm, 
Not  dressed,  but  each  with  pike,  boar-spear,  or  axe, 
Caught  up  in  hurry  to  defend  the  house ; 
And  there  was  our  young  thane,  with  his  great  sword 
Naked  in  both  his  hands,  but  in  his  night-gown 
Like  all  the  rest ;  and  still  the  noisy  knocking 
Hammered  impatiently  upon  the  door. 
Some  from  the  upper  windows  tried  to  look 
Into  the  court  below ;  but  all  was  darkness 
Under  the  shadow  of  the  eastern  wall. 


SCENE  i.]          The  Sons  of  Godwin.  47 

Then  Gamel  gripped  his  sword,  and  stood  in  front, 
And  bade  us  draw  the  bar.     Those  perched  above 
At  the  hall-windows  shouted,  "Keep  the  door!" 
But  Gamel,  thinking  that  they  cried  in  fear, 
Bade  us  in  haste  to  loose  and  swing  it  back ; 
So,  drawing  bolt  and  bar,  we  opened  it : 
When,  from  the  darkness,  sprang  into  the  light 
A  man  all  travel-stained ;  on  whose  pale  face 
Was  terror's  frightful  stamp.     We  knew  the  man; 
'Twas  Cuthbert,  a  Northumbrian,  who  came 
Sometimes  to  see  our  thane. 

SEXWULF,  who  has  awakened,  listens  very  at- 
tentively. 

He  seized  the  door 

As  if  to  swing  it  back,  but  was  too  late ; 
A  throng  of  men,  all  armed,  came  pouring  in — 
Earl  Tostig's  men ;  I  knew  them  by  their  badge, 
A  silver  war-ship.     Cuthbert  rushed  to  Gamel, 
Crying,  "  They  come  to  kill  me ;  Gamel>  help  1" 
Our  fearless  thane,  though  thus  surprised,  stood  fast, 
Swung  his  great  sword  above  his  head,  and  cried, 
"Back — back,  Northumbrians;  by  my  father's  soul 
Ye  shall  not  have  this  man  1"     But  on  they  came, 
And  we  were  only  twenty  to  a  hundred, 
Naked  and  scarcely  armed.     A  flash  of  swords  ; 
Down  went  the  foremost  under  Camel's  stroke, 


48  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  11. 

But  ere  his  arm  could  thrice  repeat  the  blow 
The  hundred  were  upon  him,  and  he  fell ; 
While,  fighting  by  his  side,  was  Cuthbert  killed. 

SEXWULF  comes  forward. 
SEXWULF. 

Was  Cuthbert  killed  ?    Art  sure  they  killed  him  too  ? 
He  might  be  hurt  and  fall,  but  yet  not  killed — 

OSBALD. 

I  saw  them  hack  him  with  a  hundred  wounds, 
Each  one  of  which  was  mortal.     Who  are  you 
That  seem  to  take  such  interest  in  the  man  ? 

SEXWULF. 
Hacked  with  a  hundred  wounds  !  Cuthbert  is  dead  ! 

OSBALD. 
Yes,  surely  dead.     But  you — are  you  Northumbrian  ? 

SEXWULF. 

He  saved  my  life — I  know  not  how  to  say  it — 
He  saved  the  slave  that  others  spurned  in  scorn  ; 
And  the  slave  loved  him — loved,  as  a  dog  loves, 
Who,  watchful  of  his  master's  smile  or  frown, 
Takes  joy  or  sorrow  from  the  face  he  loves. 


SCENE  i.]          The  Sons  of  Godwin.  49 

What  now  can  Sexwulf  do,  but,  like  a  dog, 

Die  on  his  grave  ?  You  said  they  cut  and  hacked  him — 

The  cowards,  murderers  !     Theow  as  I  am, 

I  would  have  faced  them,  ceorl-born,  thane-born, 

Ay,  Tostig's  self,  with  axe,  or  pike,  or  spear, 

Or  with  my  naked  hands,  had  I  been  there  1 

MOLLO. 

Where  did  you  leave  him  ?     Came  you  to  the  Earl 
From  this  slain  Cuthbert  ? 

SEXWULF. 

I  came  from  north  the  Humber ;  came  afoot ; 
Nor  took  much  longer  time  than  he  on  horse : 
I  ran  in  hope  to  save  him,  but  he's  dead — 
Dead  !  dead !     I  am  too  late ! 

OSBALD. 

No  fault  of  yours ; 
You  had  no  time  to  save  him,  if  the  means. 

MOLLO. 
How  could  you  give  him  help  ? 

SEXWULF. 

I  will  not  talk. 

Exit  SEXWULF. 

CDS 


5O  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  u. 

MOLLO. 

This  brutish  theow  has  so  marred  your  story 
I  know  not  yet  how  it  hath  chanced  to  you 
To  come  so  quickly  here. 

OSBALD. 

The  slave  is  rude ; 

But,  faith  !  I  cannot  choose  but  pity  him. 
When  I  saw  Gamel  slain,  in  fear  I  fled ; 
'Twas  death  to  stay.     Through  a  side-door  I  passed ; 
Ran  through  the  house,  familiar  with  the  way, 
And  gained  the  stable,  saddled  a  swift  horse, 
And  rode  into  the  night ;  soon  left  behind 
Death  and  the  din  of  murder.     As  I  rode, 
A  lurid  glow  lit  up  the  dismal  night, 
Tinting  the  dark  skies  with  a  crimson  fire ; 
Then,  looking  back,  I  saw  long  tongues  of  flame 
Curling  around  the  gables  of  our  house, 
And  spurred  my  horse  the  faster.     To  my  heart 
Now  came  wild  terror,  and  my  hair  stood  up ; 
Cold  drops  of  sweat  were  gathered  on  my  brow ; 
Dead  Cuthbert's  face,  as  when  he  crossed  our  door 
With  murderers  behind  him,  haunted  me 
With  its  wild  look  of  horror.     When  at  last 
My  mind  grew  calm,  and  when  my  heart  no  more 
Thumped  at  my  ribs,  I  fixed  upon  my  course, 


SCENE  I.]          The  Sons  of  Godwin.  51 

To  seek  Earl  Morkar  in  Northamptonshire — 

For  Gamel  was  of  kindred  to  the  Earl — 

And  bear  him  tidings  of  this  midnight  murder. 

Morkar  in  silence  heard  me,  stamped  and  frowned ; 

Then  bade  me  take  his  letter  to  the  king, 

Nor  slack  my  rein  lest  he  be  there  before  me. 

MOLLO. 
And  the  king  sent  you  with  your  news  to  Harold  ? 

OSBALD. 

Unto  Earl  Harold,  who  is  Tostig's  brother; 
And  so  it  seems  not  clear  to  me  how  justice 
Is  likely  to  be  dealt  for  my  thane's  murder 
By  your  Earl's  hands — 

Enter  GUTHLAC. 

GUTHLAC  to  OSBALD. 

The  Earl  is  waiting  you. 
Exeunt  GUTHLAC  and  OSBALD. 

MOLLO. 

This  is  the  way  Earl  Tostig  rules  his  earldom ; 
Hunting  men  down,  and  burning  homes  o'  nights. 
More  promise  for  the  soldier  than  the  minstrel 
I  see  in  this.     Heigh-ho  !     This  bodes  of  war— 


52  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  11. 

War,  to  despoil  me  of  my  comforts  here, 
Soft  bed  and  Kentish  ale.     My  wisest  way 
Is  to  enjoy  them  both  while  yet  I  may. 

Pours  a  stoop  of  ale,  and  drinks. 

So  now  I'll  go  to  bed. 

Exit. 


SCENE  II.— LONDON. 

Hall  of  state  in  the  kings  palace.  The  KING,  EARLS 
HAROLD,  TOSTIG,  GURTH,  and  MORKAR;  ALDRED, 
Archbishop  of  York;  STIGAND,  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury; GUTHLAC;  thanes,  guards,  attendants,  messen- 
gers, etc. 

FIRST  MESSENGER. 

Your  Majesty, 

Britwald,  the  ealdorman  of  Exeter, 

True  and  leal  servant  unto  England's  king, 

Sends  to  his  king  for  aid.     The  pirate  Rhud, 

Round  Cornwall  sailing  from  the  Irish  seas, 

With  thirty  long-ships  hath  besieged  your  town ; 

Threatening,  unless  a  thousand  pounds  be  paid, 

His  war-gild,  to  break  down  the  city  gates, 


SCENE  ii.]         T/IA  Sons  of  Godwin,  51 

To  seize  its  treasures  as  the  spoils  of  war, 
And  set  your  servant's  head  upon  a  pike. 

KING. 

Earl  Harold,  how  is  this  ?    Two  summers  since 
You  swept  these  Irish  pirates  from  the  seas. 
Who  is  this  Rhud  that  dares  besiege  our  town  ? 

HAROLD. 

My  liege,  these  hornets  swarm  along  the  coasts 
Of  Ireland,  Hebrides,  and  stormy  Orkneys ; 
No  broom  can  sweep  them  clean ;  among  the  isles 
And  thousand  inlets  of  the  Irish  seas 
They  hide  them,  till  some  howling  northern  blast 
May  bring  their  swift  ships  to  an  English  town : 
From  which  they  fly,  oft  laden  with  much  spoil, 
Ere  we  have  time  to  strike  a  blow  at  them. 

KING. 

What  may  we  do  ?    Shall  we  send  out  our  ships 
And  raise  the  siege  ?    It  surely  is  not  wise 
To  pay  these  pirates  war-gild. 

HAROLD. 

Nay,  my  liege ; 

No  money  shall  the  bold  forayers  have. 
5* 


54  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  u. 

Four  days  ago  a  message  came  to  me 
From  the  far  north  of  this  King  Rhud's  intent ; 
And  instant  Leofwine,  my  brother,  sailed 
With  forty  war-ships  out  of  Medway  frith  ; 
Before  whose  keels  the  pirates  have  been  driven 
Back  to  their  wild  and  stormy  seas  again, 
Or  King  Rhud's  head  is  set  upon  a  pike. 

KING. 

My  careful  Harold  1     England's  weal  is  safe 
Through  the  king's  prayers  and  Harold's  ready  arm. 

To  Messenger. 

The  aid  you  ask  for  is  already  -sent ; 

Go  back  and  tell  brave  Britwald,  England's  arm 

Is  ever  ready  to  protect  our  realm. 

Exit  Messenger. 
Who  is  the  second  messenger  that  waits  ? 

SECOND  MESSENGER. 

Your  Majesty,  I  come  from  Sandwich's  port, 
Sent  to  the  king  by  many  citizens 
Desiring  that  their  sea-walls,  greatly  rent 
By  the  late  storms,  be  speedily  repaired 
And  pqt  in  fit  condition  of  defense. 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  55 

Two  weeks  in  London  have  I  waited  audience, 
The  while  our  walls  are  useless  and  o'erthrown  ; 
And  had  this  Rhud  sailed  down  the  coast  so  far 
He  would  have  found  our  town  without  defense. 

KING. 

Harold,  what  answer  shall  we  send  to  Sandwich  ? 
To  build  up  sea-walls  empties  treasure-chests. 
Our  steward  tells  us  that  there  is  no  money ; 
He  scarce  could  pay  for  that  most  precious  relic, 
Saint  Peter's  thumb. 

ARCHBISHOP  STIGAND. 

My  liege,  a  blessed  relic ; 
And  safer  guardian  of  our  island  shores 
Than  walls  or  war-ships  ! 

HAROLD. 

Doth  your  Reverence  mean, 
I  might  have  saved  my  brother  and  his  ships, 
Sending  a  priest  with  Peter's  thumb  to  Rhud? 

ARCHBISHOP  STIGAND. 
The  blessed  relic  would  have  scared  the  heathen. 


56  The  Sans  of  Godwin.  [ACT  n. 

HAROLD. 
Perhaps ;  but  Leofwine  is  sure  to  do  it. 

KING. 

Harold,  I  grieve  to  hear  such  doubts  from  one 
Whose  life  hath  ever  shown  a  noble  mind. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED  to  HAROLD. 

More  reverence  unto  holy  church,  my  son, 
Were  more  becoming  to  your  high  estate. 

KING. 

The  messenger  awaits  an  answer,  Harold, 
Concerning  Sandwich  and  its  broken  walls. 

HAROLD  to  Messenger. 

Your  town  itself  should  have  rebuilt  its  walls. 
Why  do  the  lazy  citizens  thus  wait, 
And  leave  themselves  defenseless  ?     It  were  well 
King  Rhud  had  paid  his  visit  to  your  town, 
A  lesson  that  you  need.     Return  to  Sandwich, 
And  tell  the  citizens  that  sent  you  hither, — 
A  graceless  envoy  from  a  slothful  town, — 
Unless  their  walls  are  up  within  three  months 
The  king  will  levy  a  sufficient  tax 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  57 

On  Sandwich  to  build  up  a  mighty  sea-wall, 
Whose  solid  masonry  will  laugh  at  storms. 
Begone  ;  and  learn  to  wear  more  modest  bearing 
In  presence  of  your  king. 

To  attendants. 

Take  him  away. 
Exeunt  attendants  with  messenger. 

MORKAR. 

My  liege,  I  come  before  your  throne  to  plead 
For  justice — simple  justice.     Yours  the  rule 
From  Cornwall  to  the  Tweed,  and  England  owes 
Unto  your  throne  and  crown  its  true  allegiance ; 
But  what  owe  you  to  England  as  its  king  ? 
You  owe  to  all  that  life,  goods,  house  and  land, 
The  rights  of  ceorl,  thane  and  ealdorman, 
Shall  be  secure ;  nor  torn  away  by  force, 
By  robber  force,  though  wielded  by  an  earl. 
Lo  !  here  before  your  throne  I  take  my  stand ; 
Claim  from  the  king  an  Englishman's  broad  rights : 
My  cousin  Gamel  hath  been  basely  murdered ; 
His  dwelling  broken  at  the  dead  of  night ; 
His  servants  slain  ;  his  house  and  goods  despoiled, 
And  given  up  to  fierce  devouring  flames, 
By  one  who  comes  before  your  throne  to-day 
c* 


58  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  n. 

Wearing  the  emblems  of  a  belted  earl. 

I  ask  for  justice.     Though  his  kindred  stand 

Highest  around  your  throne,  the  laws  of  England 

Require  that  punishment  be  dealt  to  crime. 

I  here  demand  the  king  shall  take  his  earldom 

From  Tostig  Godwinson,  and  that  a  witan 

Sit  on  his  acts.     If  he  be  proven  guiltless, 

Then  let  him  in  Northumbria  rule  again  ; 

If  guilty, — and  his  guilt  is  manifest, — 

He  is  not  fit  to  live  on  English  soil. 

TOSTIG. 

And  who  are  you — the  censor  of  the  realm — 
To  say  this  earl  shall  rule,  and  this  shall  not? 
What  service  unto  England  have  you  done  ? 
When  the  Welsh  king  rebelled  against  our  liege 
You  fought  on  Gryffyth's  side :  but  pardoned  this 
By  clemency  too  lenient  for  such  crime, 
Yet  still  a  traitor  in  your  secret  heart, 
You  would  incite  the  king  against  his  friends, 
Whose  swords  cut  off  the  head  of  your  rebellion, 
Because,  forsooth,  your  cousin,  harboring  rebels, 
Received  the  punishment  was  due  to  one. 

MORKAR. 
You  taunt  and  fling  at  me  a  rebel's  name ; 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  59 

This  thing  is  past.     Would  you  recall  the  past  ? 

There  is  a  legend  current  in  the  land 

That  once  upon  a  time,  my  ancestor 

Then  Earl  of  Mercia,  your  much-boasted  line 

Sprang  from  a  low-born  cowherd. 

TOSTIG. 

It  is  false — 

False  as  your  lying  lips.     My  ancestor, 
Brave  Wulfnoth,  was  a  nephew  to  the  king ; 
And,  though  his  youth  was  nursed  in  peasant's  hut, 
Proved  his  great  ancestry  by  valiant  acts 
Worthy  his  lineage ;  and  achieved  a  name, 
"The  Childe  of  Sussex,"  sung  throughout  the  land 
By  minstrel  lips  to  ears  attuned  to  glory. 
Your  legend  is  most  false. 

MORKAR. 

These  boasts  are  naught. 
I  claim  your  punishment  for  lawless  acts. 

KING. 

Earl  Tostig,  what  have  you  to  answer  us 
Upon  this  charge  of  outrage,  midnight  burning, 

Murder  ? 

TOSTIG. 

My  liege,  in  hot  pursuit  of  one 


60  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  11. 

Escaping  justice,  my  officer  and  men 

Came  in  the  night  through  Sherwood's  forest  paths 

To  Nottingham ;  here,  when  they  closed  upon  him, 

The  quarry  won  a  refuge  in  the  house 

Of  Gamel,  son  of  Orm.     Against  my  men 

Gamel  opposed  his  household ;  in  the  tumult 

The  thane  was  killed,  but  not  before  he  slew 

Three  of  my  men  j  for  this  they  burned  his  house. 

KING. 

But  Nottingham's  in  Mercia :  wherefore,  Earl, 
Did  you  pursue  the  man  beyond  your  earldom  ? 

TOSTIG. 

In  the  long  chase  across  a  country  wide, 
Who  stops  at  night  to  mark  dividing  lines 
And  say  "  Here  ends  dominion  of  my  Lord"  ? 
I  bade  them  take  the  man  alive  or  dead ; 
And  who  was  Gamel,  that  his  hand  should  dare 
To  check  the  purpose  of  Northumbria's  Earl? 

KING. 

Who  was  this  criminal  so  fiercely  sought  ? 
A  traitor  to  our  crown  ?  assassin  ?  thief? 
Surely  his  crimes  had  been  of  blackest  dye, 
Thus  hunted  down  at  night  by  your  armed  men  ? 


SCENE  IL]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  6l 

TOSTIG. 

And  must  an  earl,  allied  to  kings,  bow  down 
Like  a  poor  theow,  and  explain  each  act 
Of  justice  done  by  him  within  his  earldom  ? 
The  man  was  judged  by  me,  his  legal  lord — 
Judged,  doomed,  and  had  been  executed  too 
Although  he  fled  unto  the  farthest  Orkney. 

KING. 

Storm  not  at  us,  Sir  Earl ;  we  know  the  story : 
How  you  oppressed  and  injured  this  poor  man 
Because  he  murmured  that  you  took  his  mate. 
Oh,  fie  on  you,  a  Christian  earl,  to  steal, 
And  slay  the  victim  to  atone  the  theft ! 

TOSTIG. 

Steals  then  the  lion  when  in  forests  dark 
He  leaps  upon  his  prey?  or  steals  the  eagle 
When  from  his  dizzy  height  he  swiftly  swoops 
On  frightened  dove  ?     No,  King ;  these  do  not  steal. 
They  take  by  lordly  power  and  right  of  might. 
So,  like  a  lion  mid  the  beasts  of  field, 
An  eagle  'mong  the  birds,  Earl  Tostig  rules 
With  men ;  and  Nature  gave  him  his  fierce  heart, 
Strong  arm  and  dauntless  courage,  as  it  gave 
Tooth  to  the  lion,  talon  to  the  eagle. 
6 


62  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  n. 

I  steal,  indeed  !     By  Hengist !  if  an  earl, 

A  Saxon  earl,  have  not  so  much  of  power 

To  rule  his  household,  but  must  bend  him  low, 

And  answer  every  act  to  every  neighbor 

Who  hath  a  cousin,  you  may  give,  O  King, 

Northumbria's  earldom  to  this  Morkar  here, 

This  little  earlling  who  is  brave  in  talk ; 

And  I  will  launch  my  war-ships,  as  of  old 

My  fathers  did;  and,  like  the  Childe  of  Sussex, 

Mine  ancestor,  will  reap  my  harvests  where 

Pale,  trembling  slaves  are  held  in  Law's  base  leash ; 

Myself  a  sea-king,  and  beyond  all  law. 

KING. 

Not  by  the  Saxon  chief  on  whom  you  call 

In  your  vain  arrogance,  you  bold,  bad  man ; 

But  by  the  holy  and  the  blessed  saints 

We  swear  that  we  would  take  you  at  your  word, 

Did  we  consider  you  alone  in  this ; 

And  deem  the  land,  thus  purged  of  feverish  heat, 

More  fit  abode  for  men  ! 

HAROLD. 

My  gracious  liege, 
My  brother's  sword  hath  ever  fenced  your  throne  j 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  63 

Let  this  his  service  in  the  past  plead  now, 
When,  in  the  heat  of  passion,  he  hath  erred. 
His  hasty  words  he  will  in  penitence 
Retract,  and  bow  unto  deserved  reproof; 
Before  the  witan  will  he  plead  his  cause 
In  all  the  circumstance  of  Camel's  death. 
Let  not  his  angry  words  be  filed  against  him. 

TOSTIG. 

Thanks,  prudent  brother;  who  would  shape  your  course 

With  nice  diplomacy  through  crooked  ways  ! 

What  are  a  brother's  claims  or  kindred  ties 

To  him  whose  wisdom  brothers  every  one  ? 

I  will  not  plead  my  cause  before  the  witan ; 

I  am  an  earl,  and  in  my  veins  the  blood 

Of  warrior  kings.     The  thing  I  did,  I  stand  to; 

It  was  a  right  pertaining  to  my  earldom. 

Let  thanes  in  witan  try  the  acts  of  thanes ; 

I  am  above  their  law ;  I  laugh  at  them. 

HAROLD. 

Peace,  Tostig ;  you  are  so  inflamed  with  wrath 
That  anger  smothers  reason.     Leave  with  me 
The  vindication  of  this  act,  and  I  will  plead 
Your  cause  unto  the  king  and  to  the  witan. 


64  The  Sons  of  Godivin.  [ACT  n. 

TOSTIG. 
My  cause  with  you,  unnatural  brother  !     No  ! 

Draws  his  sword  and  advances  toward  HAROLD, 
but  is  held  back  by  GUTHLAC  and  the  guards, 
who  interpose  between  them  and  surround 
TOSTIG. 

If  I  must  choose  a  champion  for  my  right, 
Svend,  King  of  Denmark,  or  my  Norman  brother 
Shall  stand  for  me.     How  like  you  these,  my  lords  ? 

To  the  KING  while  sheathing  his  sword. 
Nay,  do  not  fear  me,  sainted  Majesty ; 
I  will  not  break  your  guard. 

KING. 

Take  him  away — 
A  berserker !  a  firebrand  !     He  is  possessed. 

The  guards  look  to  HAROLD  who  hesitates,  then 

waves  his  hand  sadly,  and  TOSTIG  is  led  off. 
Alas,  such  strife  is  mortal  to  this  land  ! 
Lo !  a  prophetic  vision  comes  to  me  : 
Discord  is  sitting  on  this  island  throne 
With  frenzy  in  her  eyes ;  her  hands  upraised 
Urge  on  tumultuous  war ;  the  affrighted  land 
Trembles  to  hear  the  din.     I  will  not  see  it ; 
It  terrifies  my  soul.     Upon  my  knees, 
O  England,  I  have  prayed  to  all  the  saints 


SCENE  IL]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  65 

For  your  prosperity,  but  yet  in  vain ; 
The  portents  in  my  heart  foreshadow  woe  1 

MORKAR. 

Much  woe  must  England  suffer  if,  O  King, 
Such  earls  as  this  shall  rule  within  her  realm. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

My  liege,  Earl  Godwin  was  my  youth's  best  friend, 
And  deep  the  debt  of  gratitude  I  owe 
Which  I  would  pay  his  sons ;  yet  larger  still 
The  debt  I  owe  my  country.     Not  in  haste 
I  counsel  should  Earl  Tostig's  acts  be  judged, 
But  with  the  ripest  wisdom.     In  our  land 
Two  powers  build  up  the  state  :  the  power  of  God, 
Its  exponent  the  holy  church, — and  law, 
Its  exponent  the  king.     By  law  the  king 
Hath  rights  executive,  as  hath  each  earl 
And  every  ealdorman  ;  the  meanest  ceorl 
Hath  yet  his  rights,  as  firmly  built  on  law 
As  are  the  king's.     Allow  these  laws  to  fail 
As  they  pertain  to  ceorl,  earl  or  king, 
And  all  the  body  of  our  state  is  threatened 
With  overthrow.     This  do  I  urge  to  show, 
Though  Tostig's  office  give  prescriptive  rights, 
It  doth  not  give  the  power  to  fix  those  rights ; 
E  6* 


66  The  Sons  of  Godwin,  [ACT  n. 

Nor  king  nor  earl  can  stand  above  the  law 
As  angry  Tostig  claims. 

ARCHBISHOP  STIGAND. 

In  state  affairs, — 

Indeed  in  all  affairs,  or  great  or  small, — 
Beside  the  right  and  law,  another  claim 
Oft  presses  into  council,  which  men  call 
Expediency.     Earl  Tostig  is  allied 
To  Norman  William  through  his  countess,  Judith, 
And  to  her  father,  Baldwin  Count  of  Flanders ; 
Then  through  his  mother  to  the  Danish  king ; 
Three  warlike  potentates,  whose  enmity 
Might  bring  more  evil  than  we  seek  to  cure. 

KING. 

Earl  Morkar,  we  defer  to  render  judgment 
Till  further  counsel.     May  the  saints  bestow 
Such  worldly  wisdom  as  may  cure  this  strife 

Of  angry  men  ! 

HAROLD. 

My  liege,  I  ask  your  leave 
To  go,  your  envoy,  into  Normandy, 
And  bring  my  kindred  from  Duke  William's  court. 
Your  royal  cousin  holds  unlawfully 
The  hostages  that  my  dead  father  gave, 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  67 

His  pledge  to  you  ;  nor  heeds  the  messengers 
Sent  to  recall  my  kinsmen  from  his  court : 
Me,  he  would  heed  j  my  visiting  perhaps 
Draw  closer  ties  of  friendship  and  alliance. 

KING. 

Nay,  nay,  son  Harold ;  here  you  surely  err, 
Trusting  yourself  in  Norman  William's  power. 
God  sends  an  ominous  chill  upon  our  heart 
Hearing  your  desperate  purpose  —  Leave  the  realm 
While  thus  men's  passions  clamor  in  our  court, 
With  broil  and  murder  rife  throughout  the  land, 
When  none  but  you  can  quell  each  rising  storm, 
No  one  like  you  support  our  feeble  hand  ? 
Oh,  Harold,  this  from  you  !     We  pardon  Tostig; 
So  you  will  stay  with  us,  ask  what  you  will : 
But  do  not  threaten  to  desert  your  king. 

HAROLD. 

Your  Majesty  hath  no  more  faithful  servant 
Than  Harold  Godwinson  will  ever  prove, 
Who  will  desert  you  never.     I  but  go 
On  a  brief  embassy  to  friendly  court ; 
You  scarce  shall  miss  me  ere  I  will  return ; 
During  my  absence  Gurth  and  Leofwine 
Shall  be  to  you  as  Harold. 


68  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  u. 

KING. 

Though  I  know  well, 

Son  Harold,  that  your  worldly  wisdom  looks 
Beyond  the  sight  and  reach  of  other  men, 
I  apprehend  some  peril  to  our  land 
Lurking  behind  this  purpose,  hid  from  you, 
But  darkly  shadowed  in  my  prophet-heart. 
I  cannot  make  you  stay ;  but  if  you  go, 
O  holy  saints  !  absolve  me  from  the  sin, 
And  spare  my  eyes  the  misery  to  see 
The  monstrous  ills,  whose  huge  impending  shade 
Falls  darkly  at  my  feet.     (Rises.*)  Your  arm,  my  son, 
To  help  our  feeble  steps. 

The  KING  leans  on  HAROLD,  descends  from  his 
throne,  and  passes  out  with  guards,  attendants, 
etc.  ARCHBISHOP  STIGAND  detains  ALDRED. 

ARCHBISHOP  STIGAND. 

Aldred,  the  king 

Grows  feebler  every  day,  and,  like  a  child, 
Sees  shadows  in  the  dark :  he  needs  the  help 
Of  some  firm  mind  to  regulate  his  own  ; 
To  shape  and  give  direction  to  his  acts. 
In  Harold's  absence  we  may  mould  the  king, 
And  higher  build  our  holy  church  of  God. 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  69 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Aye,  for  the  present ;  but  I  look  beyond, 
And  see  upon  the  throne  another  king, 
Who  may  not  be  so  friendly  to  our  church 
As  pious  Edward,  soon  to  be  a  saint. 

Exeunt. 


SCENE  III.— LONDON. 

A  chamber  in  the  Benedictine  Abbey.     A  table  with 
papers  t  pen  and  ink. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED  seated  andfLxKL  MORKAR  standing. 

MORKAR. 

In  vain  you  counsel  patience  while  I  see 
These  hungry  Godwinsons  devour  the  land. 
Who  hold  the  three  great  earldoms?    Sons  of  Godwin. 
Northumbria's  Tostig's,  and  rich  Mercia,  Gurth's ; 
The  while  my  father's  sons,  the  heirs  of  Mercia, 
And  Waltheof,  heir  of  all  Northumbria, 
Must  be  contented  with  estates  of  thanes. 
South  of  the  Thames  spreads  Harold's  earldom  broad  ; 
Nor  this  alone,  although  an  earl  in  name, 
Harold  in  fact  is  king.     Did  you  not  mark — 
But  well  I  know  you  did — how  our  sick  king 


7O  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  n. 

Speaks  but  the  words  that  Harold  bids  him  speak? 

Sees  everything  through  Harold's  thoughtful  eyes? 

Reflects  Earl  Harold  as  a  polished  mirror 

Throws  back  a  second  self?    This  can  I  bear ; 

For  Harold,  though  his  powerful  hand  has  grasped 

The  richness  and  the  glory  of  the  land, 

Is  ever  just,  and  looks  beyond  himself 

To  England's  good.     But  Tostig  is  all  greed. 

This  demon  son  of  Godwin,  tiger-like, 

Feeds  upon  England.     'Tis  a  wicked  fiend, 

That  laughs  alike  at  pity,  danger,  power; 

Mighty  of  valor  as  the  Danish  Odin, 

As  Balder  beautiful,  but  dread  as  Lok  ! 

I,  the  hereditary  prince  of  Mercia, 

Am  set  aside,  while  this  fierce  pirate  rules ; 

Nor  only  rules,  the  earl  of  broad  domains, 

But  sends  his  spoilers  over  all  the  land. 

O  father,  preach  not  your  dull  virtue,  patience, 

To  one  who  feels  his  native  rights  abused ; 

To  one  who  sees  his  friends  and  kinsmen  slain, 

His  country's  laws  and  customs  set  at  naught 

By  a  wild  viking,  whose  bold,  scornful  laugh 

Derides  the  king,  defies  the  hand  of  power ! 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 
Didst  mark  his  shrewd  intent  when  the  Archbishop 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  71 

Of  Canterbury  gave  counsel  to  the  king, 
How  he  advised  this  thing,  expediency, 
To  sit  above  our  judgments  ?    It  is  true : 
What  is  our  right  we  often  must  defer 
Because  such  right  is  barred  from  us  by  that 
Would  cost  us  much  to  push  aside ;  so  you, 
Who  cannot  reach  at  once  what  is  your  right, 
Must  bear  your  wrong  because  expediency 
Stays  present  having. 

MORKAR. 

Patience  supposes  hope ; 
But  what  have  I  on  which  to  build  a  hope  ? 
While  I  must  wait  the  wrong  grows  daily  more ; 
And  I  shall  wake  to  hear  fierce  Tostig's  band 
Batter  upon  my  gate ;  and  then  my  waiting, 
Like  Gamel's,  stop. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Pray  tell  me  this,  my  son  : 
Whose  is  the  greatest  name  and  power  in  England  ? 

MORKAR. 
Harold's. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

And  who  will  sit  on  England's  throne 


72  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  n. 

When  sainted  Edward  puts  aside  its  crown 
To  wear  the  one,  won  by  his  holy  life  ? 

MORKAR. 

I  cannot  tell — The  power  of  force  so  rules, 
How  can  I  know  Tostig  will  not  be  king  ? 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 
Harold  will  be  the  king. 

MORKAR. 

What  hope  for  me, 

For  England,  when  fierce  Tostig  shall  have  scope 
For  all  his  lawlessness,  thus  near  the  throne  ? 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Wisdom  should  teach  you  how  to  gain  allies 
Whose  help  may  safely  fence  you  from  attack 
Of  him  you  fear. 

MORKAR. 

You  surely  mock  me,  father ; 
Allies  against  the  powerful  Godwinsons  1 
No  man  can  stand  against  them  in  this  land. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 
I  did  not  say  against  the  Godwinsons ; 
But  Tostig  only. 


SCENE  in.]       The  Sons  of  Godwin.  73 

MORKAR. 

That  is  still  the  same ; 
Will  Harold  cleave  to  me,  forsake  his  brother? 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 
Yes,  if  you  are  his  brother. 

MORKAR. 

Show  your  riddle ; 

I  have  no  heart  or  patience  to  be  guessing ; 
Tell  me  in  plainness  what  your  meaning  is. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

My  son,  in  piamness,  I  would  bid  you  wed 
Your  sister,  Aldyth,  to  fierce  Tostig's  brother. 

MORKAR. 

To  Harold  ?     Nay ;  his  heart  is  fast  enchained 
By  the  fair  Swan-neck,  lovely  Lady  Edith ; 
Such  chains  as  hers  are  hard  to  break  apart. 
Father,  you  counsel  things  impossible. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

I  think  not  so.     In  Harold's  royal  heart, 
Above  all  other  impulse  and  intent, 
D  7 


74  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  n. 

Is  zeal  for  England ;  by  this  grander  love 
He  may  be  brought  to  yield  his  passionate  hopes, 
Though  in  the  act  his  generous  heart  be  torn. 
Give  your  consent,  and  frame  your  sister  to  it ; 
My  part  shall  be — indeed  a  cruel  one — 
To  make  the  Earl  resign  his  cherished  love, 
Mthough  she  be  our  England's  fairest  flower, 
And  wed  your  sister.     This  I  undertake 
Not  all  to  help  you,  but  to  help  our  land, 
That  needs,  I  fear,  in  troublous  times  to  come, 
The  strongest  bonds  of  unity  between 
Our  diverse  peoples,  a  true  brotherhood 
Of  Godwin's  heirs  and  those  of  Leofric. 

MORKAR. 

Father,  I  give  consent ;  and  I  will  prove, 
If  Harold  wed  my  sister,  true  to  him ; 
So  shall  he  sit  secure  on  England's  throne. 
Although  a  son  of  Godwin  rules  in  Mercia, 
The  heirs  of  Leofric  rule  Mercia's  hearts  : 
Thus  I  can  bring  to  Harold  stronger  help 
Than  seems  proportioned  to  my  present  power. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

'Tis  well,  and  therefore  I  have  counseled  patience ; 
Avoid  all  contest  with  Northumbria's  Earl, 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  75 

For  he  may  crush  you  if  you  drive  him  to  it ; 
But  in  the  future  Mercia  may  be  yours, 
Yours  the  broad  earldom  Leofric  once  held, 
If  with  due  caution  the  safe  track  you  steer, 
Learning  the  lesson  :  Fortune's  oftener  won 
By  wise  diplomacy  than  brutal  strength. 

MORKAR. 

Father,  I  yield  me  to  your  larger  wisdom, 
Keeping  alight  the  hopes  that  you  have  kindled, 
And  wait  with  patience  for  a  better  time ; 
Meanwhile  I'll  do  your  bidding:  so  farewell ! 

Kneels  and  receives  the  blessing  of  ARCHBISHOP 
ALDRED,  then  exit. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

The  Welsh  king's  widow,  Aldyth,  wed  to  Harold, 
Will  bring  her  husband  a  rich  wedding  dower, 
The  hearts  of  Mercia.     Wessex  is  his, 
And  Kent ;  all  Saxon  England  clings  to  him 
Because  his  heart  is  Saxon.     He  will  have 
Northumbria's  love  in  right  of  Danish  blood 
Transmitted  through  his  noble  mother,  Gytha, 
From  Woden's  stock;  so  will  his  kingdom  stand. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED  sits. 
Oh  for  the  power  of  mind  that  looks  beyond 


76  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  n. 

This  creeping  present  into  future  years, 

Sees  in  the  acts  of  men,  their  forms  of  thought, 

Speech,  fashions,  tendencies,  beliefs,  desires, 

The  living  letters  that  make  up  the  words 

In  which  is  writ  the  coming  of  the  future, 

Of  men  and  states,  the  fateful  destinies  ! 

Around  me  jar  confusing  elements, 

Which  I  would  so  direct  that  holy  church, 

Our  Saxon  church  of  England,  may  increase 

In  power  to  mould  the  hearts  and  acts  of  men 

To  greater  glory  of  the  living  God 

And  us,  his  faithful  servants  in  the  church. 

But  yet  I  see  not  clear ;  I  fear  each  act 

May,  like  a  weapon  in  unskillful  hand, 

Effect  not  benefit,  but  injury. 

The  papal  sceptre  stretches  out  from  Rome 

Over  the  churches  with  an  iron  rule ; 

The  tiara  changes  to  a  golden  crown, 

And  crosiers  into  swords.     Alas  the  day  ! 

Our  Saxon  fashions  are  deemed  out  of  date 

By  those  of  Rome ;  while  the  great  cardinal, 

Ambitious  Hildebrand,  behind  the  pope, 

Waits  but  the  moment  of  auspicious  time 

To  modernize  our  simple,  Saxon  church 

By  gathering  in  one  grasp  its  several  powers ; 

Even  as  Guiscard  or  aspiring  William 


SCENE  in.]       The  Sons  of  Godwin.  77 

Would  overthrow  our  Saxon  liberties, 
Could  either  gain  a  foothold  in  the  land. 

Walks  up  and  down  impatiently. 
Oh  for  a  larger  intellectual  grasp, 
That  I  may  utilize  each  circumstance, 
And  mould  the  men  and  times  into  safe  means 
To  keep  unaltered  customs  as  of  old, 
Our  ancient  privilege,  prescriptive  rights  ! 
But  while  I  strive  to  shape  a  wholesome  scheme 
The  thought  forever  haunts  me  that  my  plans 
May  but  precipitate  catastrophe ; 
Yet  I  must  build  them,  or  to  stand  or  fall, 
As  Providence,  more  wise  than  I,  ordains. 
I  fear  the  Norman  most,  and  think  'tis  plain 
The  safest  way  to  hold  this  danger  off 
Is  to  consolidate  the  power  of  Harold, 
That  when  he  sits  upon  the  English  throne, 
And  holds  his  sceptre  o'er  our  Saxon  church, 
That  sceptre  may  have  power  still  to  preclude 
The  innovations  of  intriguing  Rome 
Which  Norman  rule  would  quickly  fasten  here ; 
So  I  have  set  my  plans. 

He  sits  again. 

It  is  full  time 

The  Lady  Edith  came  upon  my  summons ; 
I  have  determined  so  to  place  this  thing 
7* 


78  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  n. 

Before  her  generous  mind  that  her  own  act 
May  break  the  chains  enthralling  Harold's  heart ; 
Thus  may  I  model  his  less  plastic  mind 
To  equal  sacrifice. 

Enter  an  attendant. 

ATTENDANT. 
The  Lady  Edith. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Bring  her  to  me. 

Exit  attendant. 
Now  must  I  steel  myself 
Against  all  soft  emotion,  nor  consent 
To  feel  the  thrills  of  human  tenderness. 

Enter  attendant  ushering  the  LADY  EDITH  ;  exit 
attendant. 

EDITH. 

My  holy  father. 

Edith  kneels  to  ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED,  and  receives 
his  blessing. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Bless  you,  my  fair  child, 
Who  come  thus  dutifully  to  my  call ; 


SCENE  in.]       The  Sons  of  Godwin.  79 

The  young  and  beautiful,  in  full  pursuit 

Of  pleasures  and  the  joys  of  opening  life, 

Not  always  listen  to  a  sober  voice 

Calling  their  thoughts  to  higher,  nobler  things 

Than  butterfly-existence.     I  am  glad 

My  daughter  is  not  so  in  pleasures  steeped 

As  to  neglect  my  call. 

EDITH. 

Most  holy  sir, 

Think  not  that  pleasure  only  rules  my  heart ; 
For  though,  like  all  possessing  youth  and  health, 
I  feel  the  charms  of  beauty  and  sweet  hope 
Thrill  my  young  blood,  make  my  quick  pulses  beat, 
And  life  rejoice  in  brightness,  yet  indeed 
I  have  my  graver  hours ;  and  then  I  know 
That  life  is  not  alone  for  idle  pleasure, 
But  for  the  larger  hopes  and  destinies 
Of  us,  who  play  awhile  among  the  flowers, 
But  must  at  last  take  each  the  several  tasks 
And  graver  duties  of  a  serious  world. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

I  am  much  pleased,  dear  daughter,  that  your  mind 
Reasons  thus  wisely  in  the  midst  of  pleasures ; 
For  now  I  know,  when  duty  points  the  way, 


8o  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  n. 

Your  heart  will  yield  desirings,  wrong  though  sweet, 
And  that  your  steps  will  press  the  better  path. 

EDITH. 

What  is  it,  father,  that  you  ask  of  me  ? 

Have  I  then  seemed  too  fond  of  worldly  pleasures, 

Nor  given  unto  God  and  holy  church 

Fit  portion  of  my  time  ?    If  this  be  so, 

I  take  your  chiding  in  much  penitence, 

And,  humbly  craving  pardon,  still  will  strive 

To  sin  less  in  the  future ;  for  in  truth 

I  have  such  serious  yearnings  and  intents 

That  I  can  fondly  give  my  time  to  holy  thoughts. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

I  cannot  Diame  you,  daughter,  for  the  past ; 
Your  life  hath  ever  been  a  blameless  one ; 
But  now  the  hour  is  come  for  sober  thought : 
Your  country  and  our  holy  church  require 
Your  best  assistance  in  a  time  of  need. 

EDITH. 

My  father,  I  ?    And  can  I  help  my  country  ? 

Aside. 
O  Harold,  this  will  bring  me  nearer  you  ! 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  81 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Even  you,  fair  daughter ;  your  white  hands  are  weak  ; 
You  cannot  toil,  nor  fight,  yet  you  can  give 
Something  to  help  your  country.     Think,  my  child  : 
Can  you  consent  to  yield  your  dearest  wish 
That  thus  your  country  may  be  made  more  happy  ? 

EDITH. 

My  dearest  wish  !     Father,  what  do  you  ask  ? 
My  heart  so  flutters  that  I  cannot  think — 
You  know  not  what  may  be  my  dearest  wish. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Yes,  child,  I  know  it ;  and  it  grieves  me  much 
There  to  disturb  your  heart's  tranquillity ; 
But  long  ago  I  taught  myself  to  yield 
Dear  yearnings  for  the  greater  good  of  all, 
And  know  each  generous  act  repays  itself. 
That  fondest,  brightest  hope  of  your  young  life 
Is  the  one  sacrifice  your  country  asks. 

EDITH. 

To  give  up  Harold  ?     Oh,  my  father,  say 
I  have  mistaken  what  you  ask  of  me  1 
Do  not  ask  that :  my  heart  to  kill  my  heart, 
Killing  the  hope  in  which  alone  I  live. 

D*  F 


82  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  n. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Dear  child,  when  duty  sadly  points  the  way 
To  sacrifice,  the  heart  in  agony 
Thinks  life  a  desert,  robbed  of  one  bright  hope, 
And  duty  odious,  though  the  call  of  God. 

EDITH,  kneeling. 

Father,  upon  my  knees  I  pray  of  you 

Leave  me  this  hope,  so  twined  around  my  life 

That  when  its  tendrils  shall  be  torn  away 

My  pulse  can  never  beat  again  one  healthful  throb, 

And  I  will  give  you  all  the  rest  beside : 

Ask  what  you  will ;  my  fortune  and  my  time 

I  will  devote ;  my  hands  and  brain  shall  toil, 

Oh,  always  faithfully,  to  do  your  work  ! 

But  spare  my  heart !  oh,  father,  spare  my  heart  ! 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Your  hands  and  brain  can  give  no  useful  help 
Unto  your  country.     By  this  sacrifice 
Of  fond  affection  only  can  you  prove 
Yourself  above  the  selfishness  that  clings 
To  some  desired  thing,  though  all  the  world 
Suffer  while  you  indulge  your  selfish  longings. 


SCENE  in.]       The  Sons  of  Godwin.  83 

EDITH,  rising,  and  haughtily. 

Why  do  I  kneel  to  you  ?    What  right  have  you 
To  bid  me  crush  my  heart  and  its  best  hopes, 
That  some  vain  plan,  born  of  your  scheming  brain, 
May  thus  be  helped?    This  faithful  love  of  mine 
By  God  implanted,  nourished  in  my  breast, 
Is  not  for  priests  to  censure ;  God  alone, 
Who  gave  it,  hath  the  right  to  take  it  from  me. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

God  filled  your  breast  with  love,  that  thus  his  child 

Might  have  a  worthy  gift  of  sacrifice 

To  lay  before  his  feet.     Think  not,  vain  one, 

That  you  alone  of  all  God's  children  here 

Are  called  upon  to  yield  to  him  your  hopes : 

Thousands  on  thousands  struggled  in  the  past, 

Thousands  to-day  fight  their  rebellious  hearts 

As  you  must,  child.     Pray  God  to  guide  you  right. 

EDITH. 

Why  do  you  choose  me  from  a  thousand  others 
To  bid  me  thus,  in  life's  most  pleasant  bloom, 
Give  up  the  brightness  of  the  cheerful  day, 
Enrobe  myself  in  darkness  of  the  tomb  ? 
Hope's  radiance  quenched,  there  is  no  other  light ; 


84  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  n. 

Life  without  Harold  is  a  dismal  night. 

Why  should  my  body  live,  and  my  heart  dead  ? 

Oh,  father,  it  was  only  yesterday 

He  told  me  that  he  loved  me ;  and  to-day 

You  ask  me  to  give  up  his  glorious  love, 

Mine  only  for  one  day  !     Alas  !  I  cannot. 

You  ask  too  much  of  a  poor,  trembling  child 

Who  hath  not  courage  for  this  suicide. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Listen,  my  daughter:  in  the  name  of  duty 

I  have  required  this  heavy  sacrifice, 

That  thus,  by  yielding,  you  may  win  the  glory, 

The  martyr's  glory  of  beneficence : 

Now  will  I  add  to  holy  duty,  reason, 

To  help  you  quell  the  longings  of  your  heart. 

Earl  Harold  will  be  king;  at  Edward's  death 

The  witan  will  confer  a  crown  on  him : 

But  will  he  rule  ?     No  easy  seat  for  him, 

This  island  throne.     The  Dane ;  the  Norman  Duke ; 

Friends  of  the  ^theling ;  Morkar  and  Edwin, 

Grandsons  of  Leofric ;  young  Waltheof, 

Great  Siward's  heir;  Hakon  and  Tostig  fierce, 

His  nephew  and  his  brother ; — all  may  claim 

And  struggle  for  his  throne.     No  hope  for  him, 

For  England's  peace,  for  God's  most  holy  church 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  85 

In  England,  if  the  new  king  do  not  hold 

The  hearts  of  all  his  people.     Ancient  names 

Live  through  the  change  of  rule,  and  hold  the  hearts 

Hereditary  of  a  glory-loving  race 

Fast  in  the  chains  of  legend  and  of  song ; 

Earl  Harold  hath  no  hold  on  Mercia : 

As  king,  he  cannot  hope  to  have  its  help 

Unless  he  make  alliance  with  its  lords, 

The  heirs  of  Leofric.     By  wedding  Aldyth 

He  gains  all  Mercia,  as  her  wedding  gift. 

EDITH, 
Harold  wed  Aldyth  ? — O  my  heart,  be  still  1 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Grand  is  the  front  of  kingly  majesty, 
Godlike  its  power ;  but  yet  the  monarch  pays 
A  cruel  price  to  sit  beside  the  gods — 
As  we  poor  priests  pay  for  the  kingly  right 
To  be  God's  ministers  upon  the  earth. 
Out  of  his  heart,  his  pitiless  hand  must  tear 
Each  hope  whose  budding  whispers  happiness : 
He  lives  for  all,  not  for  his  single  self; 
The  love  of  chosen  mate  is  not  for  him ; 
His  country  claims  his  hand  to  marry  states, 
Making  alliance  by  his  marriage  rites. 


86  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  n. 

So  Power,  in  dreary  isolation,  stands ; 

And  Greatness  towers  above  life's  broken  hopes. 

EDITH. 

But  will  Earl  Harold  so  consent  to  yield 
Himself  in  purchase  of  this  barren  power  ? 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

He  must  consent,  if  in  his  generous  soul 

The  love  of  England  lingers  as  of  old. 

Not  for  the  pride  and  crown  of  majesty, 

Nor  even  for  the  fame  and  large  renown 

Of  kingly  acts,  may  Harold  give  up  love ; 

But  when  his  country,  helpless  and  alarmed, 

Calls  on  the  patriot  for  his  sacrifice, 

Then  would  you  have  your  Harold  answer,  "No;" 

Regardful  only  of  his  selfish  love  ? 

Or  would  you  have  his  noble  heart  respond 

Though  all  its  tendrils  bled  in  sundering  love? 

EDITH. 

Nay,  do  not  ask  me,  father — in  my  brain 
All  is  confusion ;  and  my  heart  is  stone. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 
Think  well  of  this,  my  child  :  at  duty's  call 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  87 

Harold  must  cancel  promised  love  to  you, 
Or,  placing  you  beside  him  on  the  throne, 
Feel  his  throne  totter,  and  at  last  o'erturned, 
Fall  in  the  general  ruin  of  the  state  ; 
While  England  echoes  everywhere  the  cry, 
"The  king  hath  brought  this  ruin  on  his  land 
Because  he  would  not  yield  his  fond  desire 
For  a  fair,  selfish  woman." 
Then  you  may  see  in  his  sad  eyes  reproach ; 
In  place  of  love,  dread  hauntings  of  remorse. 
'Tis  yours,  my  child,  to  make  a  nobler  choice — 
Do  you  give  up  the  Earl,  thus  sparing  him 
That  painful,  passionate  struggle  of  the  breast 
When  Duty  is  compelled  to  drive  out  Love — 
Thus  will  you  earn  the  glorious  recompense 
Of  generous  act,  a  sweet  approving  voice 
Telling  of  nobler  life  than  Love's  vain  dream, 
Whose  beauty  fadeth  while  its  joys  are  grasped  \ 
Thus  will  you  show  your  king  how  a  pure  soul 
Hath  worth  of  virtue,  strength  of  purity 
To  choose  aright  the  better  path  of  life, 
Renouncing  Love  at  Duty's  holy  call. 

EDITH. 

Father,  no  more — no  more  1 — My  heart  is  breaking ! 
Leave  me ;  and  when  my  agony  is  less, 


88  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  u. 

And  thought  controls  again  my  dizzy  brain, 
I'll  give  an  answer — if  I  live  to  give  it. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Pardon  me,  daughter,  for  this  cruel  pain  ; 
But  Duty  is  the  cause,  and  I,  her  servant 
Who  grieve,  but  must  perform  a  cruel  part. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED  extends  his  hands  over  the 
head  of  EDITH,  who  has  fallen  on  her  knees, 

Bless  her,  O  Saints,  and  give  her  healing  strength  ! 

Exit  ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

EDITH. 

Alas !  alas ! — my  broken,  broken  heart ! 

EDITH  falls  prostrate  on  the  floor. 


ACT.  in.]  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  89 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  L— LONDON. 

The  house  of  COUNTESS  GYTHA.     GYTHA  seated  and 
TOSTIG  standing. 

GYTHA. 

You  too  will  leave  me !     Ah,  how  desolate 
Grows  day  by  day  my  hearthstone  !     Wolnoth  first ; 
Then  my  brave  Sweyn ;  your  noble  father  next ; 
Then  Harold ;  now,  my  Tostig,  you  must  go. 
Like  blasted  trunk  of  a  storm-broken  oak, 
I  shall  be  left,  all  my  proud  branches  gone. 

TOSTIG. 

They  drive  me  from  you,  mother,  from  my  land, 
And  set  their  outlawry  upon  my  head — 
This  witan  of  the  ealdormen  and  priests — 
And  Morkar  is  to  have  Northumbria, 
My  earldom — Fools  ! — They  should  cut  off  my  head ; 
And  so  they  would,  but  dare  not — Hunt  the  lion 
To  drive  him  from  his  jungle,  but  not  dare 
8* 


go  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  in. 

To  bring  the  brute  to  bay  !     Let  them  beware 
The  hour  he  comes  to  hunt  the  huntsmen ;  then 
Will  his  roaring  terrify  their  timid  hearts  ! — 
Mother,  I  thank  you  for  my  Danish  blood ; 
Now,  viking-like,  I  have  no  lands,  no  home ; 
Over  the  swan's-bath  shall  my  long-ships  drive  ; 
A  king  of  Ocean  will  the  wolf's-head  be — 
A  wolf  s-head  ! — Who  will  take  it  ? — Mother,  mark : 
I  will  return  with  warriors  of  the  North ; 
Our  bright  round  shields  will  glisten  in  the  sun, 
A  shining  row  along  each  dragon's  side ; 
Our  war-songs  loudly  ring  along  these  shores, 
And  fright  their  witans — Mother,  I  must  go. 

GYTHA. 
My  son,  will  you  then  war  upon  your  land  ? 

TOSTIG. 
Mother,  I  have  no  land :  they  banish  me. 

GYTHA. 

You  are  too  wild,  my  son ;  remember  Sweyn  ; 
His  wayward  passions  wrecked  my  eldest  son : 
Curb  your  fierce  wrath,  and  take  the  wise  advice 
Of  Harold,  who  will  give  you  back  again 


SCENE  i.]          The  Sons  of  Godwin.  91 

Your  former  honors ;  shape  your  life  like  his, 
And  stand  among  the  foremost  of  the  land. 


TOSTIG. 

No,  mother;  in  my  veins  the  viking-blood 
Runs  all  too  hot  to  be  another  Harold 
And  smile  where  I  would  strike. 

Walks  away  impatiently,  then  returns  and  kneels 

to  GYTHA. 

I  kiss  your  hands, 

My  mother,  and  I  bow  to  you  my  head. 
Your  Harold  will  return  from  Normandy 
To  care  for  you ;  he  hath  a  prudent  brain, 
He  will  not  be  a  wolf  s-head  :  but  for  me, 
I  cannot  stay. 

Yet  you  shall  hear  of  Tostig.     When  the  winds 
Blow  their  wild  blasts  out  of  the  stormy  north, 
Then  listen,  mother,  for  my  battle-songs ; 
They  shall  be  heard  anon.     Mother,  farewell. 
In  Tostig's  heart,  though  fierce  and  wild  it  be, 
There's  yet  a  tender  part  that  throbs  for  thee. 

GYTHA,  embracing  TOSTIG. 

My  son.     Thou  hast  a  sea-king's  stormy  soul — 
True  offspring  of  the  Dane.     Whate'er  your  fate, 


92  The  Sons  of  Godwin.          [ACT  in. 

And  much  my  soul  forebodes  unhappy  chance, 
Your  mother's  love  will  cling  to  you  till  death. 

Exit  TOSTIG. 

May  all  the  saints  protect  my  outlawed  son, 
My  warrior  son,  so  beautiful  and  brave ; 
More  like  the  fabled  gods  of  the  old  North, 
Than  the  tame  men  of  this  degenerate  day ! 

Enter  GURTH,  and  after  him  GUTHLAC. 

GURTH. 

My  mother. 

GYTHA. 

Gurth,  what  news  of  Harold  ? 

She  sees  GUTHLAC. 

Speak, 

Thane  Guthlac — if  but  brief  my  greeting  seem, 
Think  that  a  mother  asks  you  for  her  sons, 
Waiting  for  news  through  all  these  weary  months. 

GUTHLAC. 

Most  noble  lady,  the  Earl,  your  son,  is  come ; 
And  I  am  sent  before  to  give  you  news. 

GYTHA. 

Doth  he  bring  Wolnoth?  and  Sweyn's  boy,  young 
Hakon  ? 


SCENE  i.]          The  Sons  of  Godwin, 


93 


GURTH. 


Nay,  mother;  Harold's  peril  hath  been  great : 
To  do  your  bidding,  and  bring  back  your  son, 
My  brother  risked  the  glory  of  our  house. 

GUTHLAC. 

Lady,  your  grandson,  Hakon,  comes  with  Harold, 
But  Wolnoth  tarries  in  Duke  William's  court ; 
There  he  hath  health  and  friends  and  pleasant  cheer, 
Nor  brighter  shines  on  Leofwine's  fair  brow 
The  laughing  smile,  than  smiles  your  Wolnoth's  face. 
He  sends  his  duty  and  his  love  to  you. 

GYTHA. 

Once  more  must  hope  in  disappointment  sink — 
But  what  the  peril  Harold  hath  endured  ? 

GUTHLAC. 

First  shipwreck  on  the  coast  of  Ponthieu  j 

Escaped  the  sea,  a  prisoner  to  Count  Guy ; 

From  thence  transferred  by  ransom  to  Duke  William. 

This  placed  him  in  the  crafty  Norman's  power 

Without  restraints  of  hospitality, 

On  which,  and  courtesy,  he  counted  much 

When  first  he  purposed  visiting  the  Duke. 


94  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  in. 

GYTHA. 

Did  not  Duke  William  treat  him  as  a  guest, 
An  honored  guest,  the  equal  of  himself? 

GUTHLAC. 

Craft  is  the  Norman's  weapon  :  like  a  brother 
Duke  William  took  him  in  his  arms,  and  placed  him 
Beside  himself,  upon  an  equal  seat ; 
Gave  sumptuous  banquets,  more  magnificent 
And  costly  than  our  English  monarchs  have ; 
Amused  us  with  rich  shows,  gay  pageants,  tilts, 
Keeping  our  Earl  always  beside  himself; 
Made  war  on  Conan,  Duke  of  Brittany, 
To  show  the  martial  training  of  his  knights : 
In  which,  a  short  campaign,  like  loving  brothers, 
Earl  Harold  and  Duke  William  fought  together, 
Shared  the  same  tent  and  table,  and  at  night 
Stretched  side  by  side,  in  slumber,  on  one  bed. 
When  in  the  field,  Earl  Harold  shone  a  king 
Among  their  Norman  knights — his  martial  deeds 
The  theme  of  every  tongue ;  but  when  at  last 
He  asked  the  hostages,  to  make  an  end 
Of  pleasant  visiting,  the  subtle  Norman 
Claimed  England  as  a  promise  from  our  king, 
His  kinsman ;  and  required  his  guest's  sworn  oath 


SCENE  i.]  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  95 

To  be  his  man  :  exacting  this  great  price 

For  hospitality — 

GURTH. 

'Twas  Circe's  price, 
Manhood  for  blandishments. 

GYTHA. 

My  son,  his  man  1 
How  answered  Harold  ? 

GUTHLAC. 

So  the  snare  was  spread 

The  Earl  was  meshed,  whichever  way  he  turned  : 
If  he  refused,  a  prison  waited  him, 
And  England  was  made  helpless,  lacking  him 
To  bar  the  Norman ;  if  he  should  consent, 
His  oath  would  fortify  the  claim  alleged 
Of  Edward's  former  promise  to  his  cousin. 

GURTH. 

To  meet  such  craft,  there  was  no  way  but  craft — 
The  lion  learns  a  lesson  of  the  fox. 

GUTHLAC. 

And  so  I  deem  Earl  Harold  answered  it : 
He  gave  consent  to  all  the  Duke's  demands ; 
Betrothed  himself  to  the  young  Adeliza; 


g6  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  in. 

Before  an  assembly  of  the  Norman  states 

Took  oath  of  service  upon  cross  and  relic 

To  William's  future  crown.     Again  was  craft — 

A  cunning  trap  prepared  to  catch  his  soul 

If  he  should  dare  deny  these  oaths  compelled : 

While  the  Earl's  hand  was  laid  upon  the  cross, 

And  on  his  lip  the  vow,  a  juggling  priest 

Drew  off  the  altar-covering,  and  displayed, 

Beneath,  a  heap  of  relics, — bones  of  saints 

Gathered  from  all  the  shrines  throughout  the  land, — 

A  dismal  charnel-house  where  superstition 

Grinned  on  the  luckless  swearer.     Pale  as  death 

Which  thus  mocked  at  him,  our  brave  Harold  stood  ; 

But  not  a  tremor  shook  his  steady  tones 

Repeating  oaths  to  these  grim  witnesses. 

This  mock  of  sacred  ceremony  done, 

Again  Earl  Harold  claimed  the  hostages 

And  leave  to  go. 

Again  the  crafty  Norman  showed  his  guile : 

He  gave  up  Hakon,  but  kept  Wolnoth  back, 

His  hostage  for  Earl  Harold's  faith  to  him. 

As  thus  we  left  perfidious  Normandy, 

Upon  Earl  Harold's  face  a  look  of  gloom 

Hung  heavy,  on  his  cloudy  brow  a  frown  ; 

Scarcely  a  word  he  spake  until  once  more 

His  foot  was  set  upon  the  soil  of  Sussex, 


SCENE  L]          The  Sons  of  Godwin.  97 

When,  lifting  up  his  head,  he  cried  aloud, 

"  Absolve  me,  saints,  whose  bones  have  been  profaned 

By  jugglers'  tricks,  and  mocked  by  perfidy  1" 

GVTHA. 

Alas !  what  dark  misfortune  hides  in  this  ? 
I  feel  its  boding  shadow  cross  my  heart 
That  coldly  shudders  with  an  ague-thrill. 

GURTH. 

It  was  a  mean  and  treacherous  deceit, 

A  trick,  whose  cunning  cheats  the  crafty  knave, 

Duke  though  he  be,  that  planned  its  tangled  snare ; 

For  such  offense  to  honesty  absolves 

The  swearer  from  the  duty  of  his  oaths. 

Mother,  farewell — I  go  to  Harold. 

GUTHLAC. 

Pardon 

Me,  noble  lady,  that  I  bring  ill  news 
Which  I  wished  better. 

GVTHA. 

Thanks  for  your  better  wish. 
Exeunt  GURTH  and  GUTHLAC. 

O  Wolnoth  !  shall  I  never  see  thee  more  ?  Exit. 

E  Q  9 


98  77/f  So/is  of  Godwin.  [ACT  HI. 


SCENE  II.— LONDON. 

A  chamber  in  the  Benedictine  Abbey.     A  table  covered 
with  papers,  at  which  is  seated  ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Thus,  like  magician  Merlin  in  his  cell, 

I  shape  the  fortunes  of  the  coming  time. 

That  dream  of  eld,  the  force  of  magic  art 

Was  but  the  might  of  intellectual  thought 

Stamped  on  the  ignorance  of  a  rude  age. 

Over  the  seas  from  Rome's  imperial  site 

I  feel  the  force  of  Hildebrand's  large  brain ; 

But  thus  I  counterplot  to  build  a  throne 

Between  our  Saxon  church  and  Italy ; 

And  all  goes  well.     Morkar  will  give  his  sister, 

The  ealdormen  their  votes,  to  Saxon  Harold ; 

And  Saxon  Harold  will  protect  the  church. 

Tostig  is  banished  ;  thus  an  element 

Of  discord  is  removed.     Harold  returned 

And  wed  to  Aldyth,  all  my  plans  are  safe; 

And  Hildebrand's  ambitious  strivings,  checked, 

Will  find  a  limit  in  the  narrow  seas 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  99 

That  roll  between  our  isle  and  Normandy. 
Yes,  this  is  my  enchantment — 

Enter  HAROLD  hurriedly. 

Who  art  thou 
That  come  so  roughly  on  my  presence  ? — Harold  ! 

HAROLD. 

O  holy  father,  help  my  troubled  soul, 
Fighting  a  cruel  battle  in  this  breast ! 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 
Shield  us,  O  saints  !     Son  Harold,  what  is  this  ? 

HAROLD. 

This  is  it :  I  have  sworn  a  wicked  oath : 
Which  is  the  greater  sin,  to  keep  such  oath  : 
Or  break  it  ? 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Tell  me  first,  my  son,  what  oath 
You  have  so  rashly  sworn. 

HAROLD. 

Fool  that  I  was 
To  venture  in  the  Norman  spider's  power ! 


ioo  The  Sons  of  Godwin.           [ACT  m. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 
Yield  not  to  passion's  storm ;  but  speak  more  calmly. 

HAROLD. 
Calmly ! 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Yes;  calmly. 

HAROLD. 

If  my  whirling  brain 
Will  let  me,  father,  I  will  tell  you  all. 
In  my  mind's  vanity  I  reasoned  thus : 
I  know  the  measure  of  Duke  William's  mind ; 
He  is  ambitious,  but  delights  in  honor 
And  all  the  noble  usage  of  that  code 
Of  knighthood  that  he  fosters  in  his  land. 

0  father,  I  was  blind — as  Folly,  blind ; 

1  did  not  know  the  man.     His  knighthood's  code 
Is  but  a  cloak  he  wears  to  hide  his  heart, 
Swollen  to  bursting  with  ambition,  greed. 
Religion,  knighthood,  cunning,  are  the  tools 
His  will  and  huge  ambition  wield  to  build 

Aloft  his  fortunes.     Father,  I  fear  the  man ; 
His  wicked  genius  will  o'erride  my  force  : 
But,  by  my  soul's  eternal  life,  I  swear 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  101 

That  I  will  fight  his  fortunes,  step  by  step, 
Ere  he  shall  build  his  throne  in  my  dear  land ! 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 
Nay,  speak  more  calmly,  Harold ;  tell  me  all. 

HAROLD. 

I  thought  that  I  was  safe,  trusting  his  honor ; 
And  this  hath  wrecked  me.     Once  within  his  power 
I  was  as  helpless  as  a  fly  immeshed 
By  cunning  spider.     In  his  smile  I  saw, 
Long  ere  his  words  told  me  his  heart's  desire, 
How  I  had  lost  my  venture  in  his  land. 
Day  after  day.  I  watched  his  crafty  face, 
And,  underneath  vain  compliments,  beheld 
How  eagerly  he  sought  to  read  my  mind, 
That  his  might  rightly  weave  his  subtle  plans. 
Then  came  a  deep  resolve  upon  my  soul 
To  meet  his  craft  with  like,  and  baffle  him 
With  the  same  art  by  which  he  sought  his  ends. 
This  is  the  sin  hath  blackened  all  my  life. 
O  father,  weary,  weary  were  the  days 
We  watched  each  other,  and  I  masked  my  thought 
Under  a  constant  smile  ;  but  he,  more  bold, 
Because  he  held  the  chances  in  his  hand, 
Hid  not  his  purpose  from  me,  though  not  yet 
9* 


IO2  The  Sons  of  Godwin.          [ACT  in. 

Shaped  in  his  words ;  and  still  the  problem  worked, 
Whether  to  crush,  or  use  me.     When  at  length 
Determined  in  his  course,  he  questioned  me 
If  I  would  help  him  to  the  throne  of  England 
When  vacant  by  the  death  of  our  King  Edward, 
Whose  heir  he  was  by  Edward's  solemn  promise. 
What  could  I  answer,  father,  to  his  question  ? 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 
A  negative  had  cost  you  then  your  life  ? 

HAROLD. 

As  surely  as  this  Norman's  vast  ambition 
Will  cost  our  land  a  hecatomb  of  lives : 
Which  to  avert,  my  own  most  cheerfully 
I  would  have  yielded  him ;  but  dying  thus, 
Who  would  be  left  to  warn,  or  happily  save 
My  country? 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

A  promise  thus  extorted 
In  peril  of  your  life  is  null  and  void. 

HAROLD. 

But  listen,  father.     In  the  solemn  presence 
Of  the  assembled  states  my  oath  was  made 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  103 

Upon  a  cross  and  relic ;  while  I  swore, 

Odo  of  Bayeux,  with  sardonic  grin, 

Drew  off  the  cloth  of  gold  beneath  my  hand, 

And,  lo  !  a  coffer  filled  with  dead  men's  bones 

Was  there ;  and  I  had  filed  the  prescribed  oaths 

Upon  the  relics  of  a  hundred  saints 

Gathered  from  all  the  shrines  in  Normandy. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED,  aside. 
I  see  the  hand  of  Hildebrand  in  this. 

HAROLD. 

It  was  a  juggler's  trick — fit  for  a  fiend, 

Not  for  a  Christian  priest.     Then  William's  eye 

As  glittering  as  a  basilisk's  was  fixed 

On  me,  and  its  grim  triumph  haunts  me  now. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Truly,  my  son,  your  oaths  were  greatly  sealed  : 
And  though  you  knew  not  of  the  coffered  bones, 
Yet  do  they  bind  your  soul.     But  be  of  cheer ; 
The  church  of  Christ,  thus  symbolized  by  saints, 
Can  set  you  free  from  these  entangling  oaths ; 
Which  profit  not  the  church,  nor  holy  saints, 
Profit  no  good,  but  help  an  evil  thing. 


IO4  The  Sons  of  Godwin.          [ACT  in. 

HAROLD. 

Until  the  hour  the  Norman  Duke  entrapped  me 
I  kept  my  soul,  in  honest  purpose,  clear ; 
But  now  'tis  stained  and  darkened  by  a  crime  : 
Nor,  though  the  church  absolve  me  of  each  oath, 
Can  I  win  back  the  pure  white  garb  of  Truth. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Nay,  Harold,  if  the  church  absolve  the  oath 
Your  soul  is  clear ;  all  stains  thus  washed  away. 

HAROLD. 

Father,  before  this  sin,  with  hope  and  faith 
In  my  true  purpose  and  my  honest  heart, 
I  faced  the  future :  now  as  black  as  night 
Seem  all  forebodingly  the  days  to  come  ; 
Nor  lighted  by  one  cheerful  ray  of  hope. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Thus  is  it  ever,  my  dear  son,  with  error ; 
It  blackens  all  things,  but  it  makes  most  foul 
The  spot  where  it  abides.     If  you  have  erred 
It  was  through  erring  judgment,  and  the  sin 
Hath  no  abiding-place  within  your  soul. 
Are  you  content  your  penance  for  this  error 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  105 

Shall  be  the  true  devotion  of  yourself 
Unto  your  country  ? 

HAROLD. 

If,  thus  sin-begrimed, 
I  can  be  deemed  still  worthy  to  do  this, 
My  single  aim  shall  be  to  save  my  land 
From  the  insatiate  lust  of  the  fierce  tiger 
That  I  have  seen  stretching  his  huge,  sharp  claws 
Out  of  their  velvet  sheaths,  in  hungry  greed 
To  feed  on  England. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

England  and  freedom  rest  on  you  alone — 
Our  free-born  England  and  our  Saxon  freedom. 
There  is  no  other  chief  in  all  the  land 
Can  cope  with  William,  or  can  lead,  as  thou, 
United  England  forth — a  mighty  host 
Whose  myriad  swords  will  cut  to  finest  shreds 
The  cunning  plans  of  these  intriguing  foes. 
Yet  think  not,  Harold,  this  great  duty  easy ; 
Who  gives  himself,  must  not  hold  back  a  part : 
Your  country  needs  your  greatest  sacrifice. 

HAROLD. 

What  mean  you,  father  ?     What  more  can  I  give 
Than  the  true  service  of  my  mind  and  hands? 
E* 


io6  The  Sons  of  Godwin.          [ACT  in. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

You  must  give  up  another  plighted  promise- 
Not,  like  these  last,  sworn  to  unwillingly. 

HAROLD. 

Another  promise !  you  must  mean,  to  Edith. 
How  can  my  love  for  her  obstruct  my  service 
And  duty  to  my  country  ? 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Thus,  my  son : 

To  bind  the  country  to  you,  heart  and  hand, 
The  heirs  of  Godwin  and  of  Leofric 
Must  make  alliance  with  a  stronger  bond 
Than  the  large  promises  that  men  forget. 
This  bond  must  be  your  marriage  with  fair  Aldyth. 

HAROLD. 

No,  priest ;  I  give  my  country  earnest  work, 
Untiring  labor  of  my  mind  and  hands ; 
My  heart  is  plighted  to  the  Lady  Edith, 
And  it  were  mockery  of  faith  and  truth 
To  wed  another. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 
Is  it  even  so  ? 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  107 

England  hath  only  one  great  Saxon  left, 

Inheritor  of  her  brave  people's  love, 

With  strength  of  mind  and  arm  to  help  her  now, 

And  he  would  rather  wanton  in  the  smile 

Of  a  fair  woman,  than  protect  his  land 

From  a  dread  foe,  armed  with  the  potent  might 

And  subtle  pretext  of  these  broken  oaths  ? 

For,  as  your  dark  forebodings  indicate, 

Your  mind  perceives  how  this  unhappy  chance 

May  prove  a  weapon  in  the  Norman's  hand 

To  strike  your  country  its  most  deadly  blow. 

HAROLD. 

Father,  I  see  it ;  and  it  is  this  thought 
That  drives  my  mind  to  chaos  of  despair. 
Since  my  rash  oath,  thus  sealed  by  trickery 
With  the  tremendous  seal  of  superstition, 
I  see  its  several  imports,  hidden  then 
When  on  my  startled  mind  the  trap  was  sprung. 
Thus  hampered  I  am  all  unfit  to  be  the  king ; 
Let  England  choose  another ;  I  will  serve  him. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

You  speak  not  now  like  Harold.     Look  around ; 
Where  is  the  king  to  place  on  England's  throne? 


108  The  Sons  of  Godwin.          [ACT  HI. 

HAROLD. 
Edgar  the  ^Etheling. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Nay,  Harold;  shame 

Should  seal  your  lips  from  speaking  such  poor  folly ; 
Edmund's  weak  grandson  cannot  be  our  king. 

HAROLD. 
My  arm  will  guard  his  sceptre,  prop  his  throne. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Peace  ! — Edgar  matched  against  the  Norman  Duke — 
The  folly  of  the  thing  would  stir  men's  laughter, 
Did  not  its  peril  strike  their  lips  with  palsy. 

HAROLD. 

0  priest,  you  hotly  chase  my  panting  heart, 
As  hunters  chase  the  timid,  flying  deer 
From  covert  unto  covert,  till  at  last, 

Beat  from  all  refuge,  there  is  naught  but  death. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

1  only  show  you  what  yourself  will  see, 
Without  such  showing,  when  the  time  matures, 
That  thus  forewarned  you  may  be  well  prepared. 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  109 

HAROLD. 

No,  no ;  my  arm  would  lose  both  skill  and  strength ; 
Courage  forsake  me,  yielding  cherished  hope ; 
And  judgment  too  desert  my  unnerved  brain, 
If  I  should  forfeit  truth  and  manhood  thus. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Howe'er  you  strive  against  the  inevitable, 
God,  duty,  and  your  conscience  still  remain, 
And  point  the  path  your  foot  must  surelv  tread. 

HAROLD. 

I  come  to  you  for  comfort,  and  you  give 
Me  up  to  torture. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Midst  a  thousand  pangs 
That  tear  the  body  and  distract  the  soul, 
That  soul  springs  upward  to  a  better  life 
From  painful  bed  of  death ;  so  life's  large  aims 
Are  won  by  suffering  and  the  wreck  of  hopes : 
You  only  bear,  my  son,  your  share  of  pain ; 
Many  there  be  who  bear  a  double  load. 

HAROLD. 
God  guide  me  rightly,  for  my  stubborn  heart 


1 10  The  Sons  of  Godwin.          [ACT  in. 

Rebels  against  the  duty  that  you  teach  ! 

Pray  for  me,  father ;  and  discharge  the  oaths 

Whose  burden  on  my  conscience  weighs  me  down 

So  heavily  that  duty  strikes  my  ear, 

A  senseless  word,  with  scarce  a  meaning  to  it. 

Exeunt. 


SCENE  III.— LONDON. 
The  house  of  EDITH. 

Enter  EDITH,  dressed  in  black,  and  with  a  sad  coun- 
tenance. 

EDITH. 

How  strange  it  seems  the  sun  should  shine  so  bright, 
The  birds  so  gayly  sing  upon  the  boughs 
Of  the  old  Druid  oak  beside  my  lattice, 
And  in  the  garden  where  I  loved  to  walk 
The  flowers  should  open  blossoms  to  the  sun, 
And  insects  flit — huge,  bright-winged  butterflies, 
Swift  bees,  gold-ringed,  darting  with  busy  hum — 
All  summer-like,  and  gay  with  glad  rejoicing, 
While  in  my  bosom  freezing  winter  reigns, 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  1 1 1 

And  happiness — a  vanished  dream — appears 

Only  a  recollection  of  the  past ! 

Alas  !  insensible  the  busy  world 

Of  nature,  heedless  all,  while  sorrow  feeds, 

Like  a  devouring  moth,  within  my  breast. 

It  seems  as  if  the  sky  should  take  dull  tints, 

The  sun  withdraw  behind  black,  stormy  clouds, 

A  sudden  winter  freeze  these  summer  smiles, 

As  youth's  fond  hopes  are  chilled  and  cold  in  me. 

I  thought  that  I  must  part  from  all  these  scenes 

Of  former  happiness  with  sad  regrets ; 

But  now  they  seem  so  senseless  of  my  pain, 

So  joyful  while  I  weep,  that  thus,  alas ! 

Even  regret  is  lost  in  the  cold  chill 

That  numbs  me,  as  I  deem  the  hand  of  Death 

Numbs  the  poor  wretch  it  summons  to  the  grave. 

Perhaps  my  harp  hath  power  to  warm  again 

My  deadened  senses,  as  it  oft  hath  moved, 

By  its  sweet  melodies,  responsive  chords 

Of  inner  being  whose  vibrations  stir 

The  quick  emotions. 

She  bends  over  the  harp,  but  the  string  she  touches 
breaks. 

No ;  its  strings  refuse 
To  yield  me  music,  as  all  nature  shrinks 
Unsympathetic  from  me  and  my  woe 


H2  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  in. 

Which  I  must  bear  alone.     Nothing  can  rouse 
My  stone-cold  heart. 

Enter  a  servant. 

SERVANT. 
My  lady,  the  Earl  Harold. 

EDITH. 

No — no ;  I  cannot  see  him — bid  him  go. 

Exit  servant. 

Why  did  I  linger  here  ?     My  heart  will  break  ! 
The  abbey  walls,  my  refuge  from  the  world, 
Should  now  have  been  my  shield — 

Enter  HAROLD,  who  advances  eagerly. 

HAROLD. 

My  Edith— Edith— 

EDITH,  shrinking  back. 

Harold,  I  did  not  think  to  see  you  more ; 

I  have  renounced  the  world,  its  joys  and  hopes, 

For  the  calm  stillness  of  a  convent's  cell 

And  blessed  peace  that  clothes  a  bride  of  Heaven. 

HAROLD. 
Where  is  the  love  you  promised  me  ? 


SCENE  in.]       The  Sons  of  Godwin.  113 

EDITH,  laying  her  hand  on  her  breast. 

Alas! 

Here,  Harold — here.     I  cannot  crush  it  out ; 
Its  roots  have  struck  too  deep.     Naught  now  remains 
But  I  must  hide  myself  and  it  from  all 
In  the  lone  cloister.     You,  to  Aldyth  wed, 
By  her  alliance  will  protect  the  land  ; 
Edith  will  kiss  the  Saviour's  holy  cross. 

HAROLD. 

This  is  the  work  of  Aldred.     Plotting  priest, 
Here,  in  the  one  most  vulnerable  spot 
Of  all,  your  keen  and  fatal  arrow  strikes  ! 
O  Edith,  I  have  made  your  cherished  love 
My  beacon-light,  the  bright  and  guiding  star 
To  which  I  turn  however  Fortune  frowns, 
And  in  its  radiance  feel  my  strength  renewed 
To  meet  perplexities,  misfortunes,  doubts. 
That  star  above  me,  I  can  smile  at  fate ; 
With  calm  serenity  meet  any  chance: 
But  take  its  light  away  and  I  am  lost ; 
Edith,  I  charge  you,  rob  me  not  of  hope ! 

'  EDITH. 

What  should  we  do  with  hope?  that  human  joy 
H  I0* 


1 14  The  Sons  of  Godwin.          [ACT  m. 

Is  not  for  us ;  cold  Duty  struck  its  blossom, 
And  it  has  withered  at  the  icy  touch. 
Peasants  may  love  and  hope,  but  we  may  not. 

HAROLD. 

And  can  you,  Edith,  for  a  priest's  cold  words, 
Give  up  the  love  you  promised  should  be  mine — 
Your  love,  the  one,  sweet  blossom  of  my  hopes, 
Bright  childhood's  promise,  the  very  crown  of  life? 

EDITH. 

I  give  up  you :  I  give  not  up  my  love ; 

For,  Harold,  I  am  sure,  whate'er  may  chance, 

My  love  and  I  will  die  in  the  same  day. 

HAROLD. 

This  Duty,  cruel,  fatal  to  our  happiness, 

Is  but  a  phantom,  summoned  by  a  priest 

To  push  along  his  nice-constructed  schemes; 

Our  hearts  and  hopes,  the  pawns  with  which  he  plays, 

Content  to  lose  them,  so  he  gain  his  end. 

I  too  can  plan  as  wisely  as  the  priest ; 

Give  me  your  love,  and  trust  my  larger  grasp 

Of  statecraft  and  philosophy  of  life 

That  takes  sufficient  scope  to  draw  within 

Its  figures  man's  humanity,  as  well 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin  115 

His  generous  impulse,  as  each  cautious  fear. 
Thus  may  we  serve  the  needs  of  our  dear  land, 
And  keep  our  hopes.     To  sunder  the  dear  ties 
That  we  have  pledged,  and  to  go  coldly  out 
Into  the  world  to  falsify  my  heart, 
Would  rob  my  arm  of  vigor,  and  my  mind 
Of  the  bright  hopes,  the  sanguine  energies, 
That  win  success  from  dark,  uncertain  chance. 
In  the  great  game  of  life,  'tis  not  the  calm, 
Passionless  plotter,  with  his  deep-laid  schemes, 
That  wins ;  but  he  within  whose  loving  heart 
Flushes  the  warm  blood  stirred  by  ardent  hope, 
The  quick  enthusiast,  not  the  subtle  priest. 

EDITH. 

O  Harold,  Harold,  do  not  tempt  me  thus ; 
You  know  not  how  in  anguish  I  have  fought 
My  stubborn  heart.     The  bishop's  plans  are  wise, 
And  Duty  points  the  right  but  painful  way ; 
Better  to  bow  to  Duty  than  Remorse. 
If  I  should  yield  to  you  my  dower  might  be 
Sorrow,  regrets,  reproachful  tongues  of  men, 
Till  all  would  look  on  me — yes,  even  you, 
In  spite  of  generous  love — as  the  sad  cause 
Of  your  disaster  and  our  country's  ills. 
Better  now  sorrow  than  a  shameful  end 


n6  The  Sons  of  Godwin.          [ACT  in. 

To  the  proud  honors,  your  ancestral  right. 
Harold,  because  I  love  you  I  refuse 
To  be  the  weight  to  pull  you  down  from  glory 
And  honor's  bright  career;  so  large  your  soul 
You  would  give  all  for  me  :  I  will  not  take  it, 
And  rob  my  country  of  its  only  help ; 
Oh,  let  me  sacrifice  my  heart  and  hopes, 
Not  ruin  all,  my  country,  you  and  hope  ! 

HAROLD. 

Thus  will  you  make  two  lives  most  desolate, 
And  yet  perhaps  purchase  no  benefit, 
Nor  stay  calamity. 

EDITH. 

Take  not  away 

From  my  sad  soul  the  only  thing  I  gain 
When  I  give  all,  the  martyr's  holy  hope 
When  the  flame  wraps  him,  dying  for  his  faith ! 

HAROLD. 
Edith,  beware  of  useless  sacrifice  ! 

EDITH. 
Your  love,  alas  I  tempts  you  to  cruel  words. 


SCENE  in.]       The  Sons  of  Godwin.  \\j 

HAROLD. 
To  spare  more  cruel  act. 

EDITH. 

No,  Harold,  no ; 
I  must  not  listen  unto  sophistry. 
A  last  farewell — I  shall  not  see  you  more, 
But  I  will  pray  most  constantly  to  Heaven 
To  send  its  blessings  on  you ;  so  my  love 
Will  be  outpoured  in  prayer. 

EDITH  moves  away. 

HAROLD. 

Stay!  Edith— stay! 
EDITH  stops,  turns  to  him,  makes  a  gesture  of 

sorrowful  refusal,  then  goes  out. 
She's  gone  1  I  am  a  plaything  now  for  chance. 
Calamity,  thy  sharpest  sting  is  here ; 
I  fear  no.  more,  so  fatal  this  last  stroke, 
So  crushed  am  I  —  Ill-chance  hath  wrought  its  worst ; 
And  time  hath  nothing  more  to  equal  this — 
My  country — yes — 

Draws  his  sword,  and  kneels  to  make  oath  on  the 
cross  of  its  hilt. 

Here  I  devote  my  life 
To  make  this  sacrifice  of  worth  to  thee. 


iiS  The  Sons  of  Godwin.          [ACT  in. 

Edith,  within  her  convent,  yet  shall  hear 
How  Harold  saved  his  land,  or  she  will  weep 
When  they  bring  tidings  of  his  faithful  death, 
Fighting  the  Norman.     Take,  ye  bones  of  saints, 
This  oath  in  place  of  one  I  cannot  keep.' 

Bows  down  his  head  over  the  cross-hilts  of  his 
sword. 


ACT  iv.]  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  i  19 


ACT   IV. 

SCENE  I.— LONDON. 
Hall  of  state  in  the  KiNG 

Guards  and  attendants. 

FIRST  ATTENDANT. 
Think  you  the  king  will  sit  in  state  to-day  ? 

SECOND  ATTENDANT. 

I  have  it  from  his  Master  of  the  Robes 
He  will.     Though  very  weak  and  deathly  sick, 
He  hath  a  sick  man's  craving  to  be  placed 
Once  more  in  state,  so  fitly  to  receive 
From  the  Archbishop  notice  in  due  form 
Of  the  high  consecration  of  his  church, 
Westminster  Abbey. 

FIRST  ATTENDANT. 

Why  doth  he  hear  it  now, 
So  sick ;  not  wait  the  time  of  better  health? 


I2O  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 

SECOND  ATTENDANT. 

'Tis  whispered  that  his  health  will  not  be  better. 
He  vowed,  long  years  ago,  a  pilgrimage 
To  Rome,  which  failing,  he  hath  built  this  church, 
His  dispensation  from  the  holy  father, 
And  fain  would  see  all  finished  ere  he  dies : 
His  mind  so  dwells  upon  it,  he  must  rise 
From  his  sick-bed  for  this  important  audience. 
See,  here  he  comes ;  how  very  weak  he  is ! 
Look  how  he  leans  upon  the  Earl. 

FIRST  ATTENDANT. 

Yes — yes ; 
This  audience  is  his  last. 

SECOND  ATTENDANT. 

Hush  !  take  your  place. 

Enter  the  KING,  supported  on  one  side  by  EARL 
HAROLD,  on  the  other  by  ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED; 
'  he  is  placed  in  his  chair  of  state,  and  is  accom- 
panied by  EARLS  GURTH  and  MORKAR,  thanes, 
guards,  and  attendants. 

KING,  feebly. 

Tell  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  we  give 
Him  audience. 


SCENE  i.]          The  Sons  of  Godwin.  121 

Attendants  go  out,  and  bring  in  ARCHBISHOP 
STIGAND  and  priests.  The  KING  sinks  back 
in  his  chair  as  if  unconscious  ;  HAROLD  bends 
over  him,  then  turns  to  ARCHBISHOP  STIGANU. 

HAROLD. 

My  Lord,  the  king  would  hear 
If  you  have  made  with  fitting  ceremony 
The  consecration  of  his  church. 

ARCHBISHOP  STIGAND. 

My  liege, 

Your  gift  to  God,  Westminster's  lordly  pile, 
His  servants  have,  with  all  accustomed  rites, 
Sealed  to  his  service.     Your  most  holy  vow 
Unto  Christ's  vicar  is  by  this  discharged, 
And  in  his  name  I  now  confirm  to  you 
All  the  indulgence  and  your  sins'  remission 
Beforetime  promised  by  our  holy  father. 
Such  gifts  of  kings  are  pleasing  in  God's  sight ; 
For,  helping  thus  his  church,  you  bring  his  light 
Of  love  and  saving  to  the  hearts  of  men ; 
Thus  as  a  king  and  servant  of  the  Lord 

You  do  a  double  service He  heeds  me  not ! 

My  Lords,  this  stupor  of  the  king  is  strange. 

F  M 


122  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 

HAROLD. 

Laying  his  hand  on  the  KING'S  arm. 
My  liege,  the  Archbishop  brings  you  here  the  thanks 
Of  holy  church  for  your  most  kingly  gift. 

KING. 

Starting  up  and  speaking  wildly. 
Yes,  I  am  ready — look  not  on  me  so ; 
Your  eyes,  so  deathly,  fill  me  with  affright : 
I  fear  not  death ;  but  yet  I  fear  your  eyes. 

HAROLD. 

My  liege,  you  dream,  addressing  empty  space. 
Who  is  it  that  you  speak  to  ?  we  see  none. 

KING. 

That  tall,  dark  palmer  with  the  spectral  eyes — 

Nay,  he  is  gone ;  bring  him  to  me  again, 

For  I  would  question  him  of  this  strange  thing. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

My  liege,  your  sickness  mounts  into  your  brain  : 
There  was  no  palmer  here  ;  it  was  a  dream. 

KING. 
A  strange  dream,  Lords.     My  soul,  a  premonition 


SCENE  i.]          The  Sons  of  Godwin.  123 

That  this  your  earthly  life  draws  near  an  end. 

Oh,  take  me,  saints,  to  dwell  with  you  in  heaven  ! 

God  give  me  strength — if  this  thing  comes  of  thee 

And  not  of  demons — to  relate  the  story. 

The  vision,  I  have  seen,  came  to  me  thus  : 

In  Normandy,  full  forty  years  ago, — 

I  was  young  then,  alas,  how  strange  it  seems  ! 

Old  now  arid  sick, — a  palmer  came  to  me, 

A  strange,  weird  man  with  eyes  that  wildly  gleamed 

As  if  they  looked  on  things  most  horrible. 

He  told  me  I  should  be  a  king,  and  rule 

In  England  many,  many  troubled  years ; 

That  sin  would  flourish  underneath  my  sceptre 

Until  God's  vengeance  shadowed  all  the  land ; 

After  my  death,  within  a  year  and  day, 

My  kingdom  should  be  vanquished  by  a  foe, 

And  all  the  land  by  demons  overrun : 

Then,  when  I  asked  him  how  to  save  the  land, 

He  told  me,  "Nay,  the  land  cannot  be  saved." 

Departing,  promised  ere  my  life  should  cease 

To  come  again,  forewarning  me  of  death. 

This  palmer,  with  his  wild,  unearthly  eyes 

Unchanged,  nor  looking  older  by  a  day 

Than  when  I  saw  him  forty  years  ago, 

Stood  here  but  now,  and  in  a  solemn  voice 

Spake  thus  to  me :   "  King,  I  have  come  again 


124  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 

As  I  foretold ;  thou  art,  hast  been  a  king, 

And  monstrous  evils  cumber  all  the  land, 

While  over  all  a  threatening  shadow  falls, 

Still  growing  darker.     Death  now  draweth  near 

To  claim  you  his ;  and  afterward  the  land 

And  throne  will  pass  by  deed,  red-writ  in  battle, 

To  a  stranger,  as  I  told  you  formerly. 

Come,  are  you  ready?"     Then  I  answered  him  ; 

And  you  spoke  to  me,  Harold,  and  you,  Aldred ; 

But  when  I  looked  again,  the  thing  was  gone. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

I  know  not  if  this  vision  comes  of  God, 
But  take,  O  King,  its  warning,  and  prepare 
To  meet  the  saints.     But  first  one  kingly  act : 
Name  a  successor  to  the  English  throne. 
You  have  no  son  to  be  your  lineal  heir ; 
Who  then  shall  have  the  rule  ? 

KING. 

Ah  !  who  would  be  a  king?    'Tis  care  and  woe ; 
A  happier  lot  the  base-born  peasant  knows 
Than  is  a  king's — pain  on  his  gold-bound  brow. 

HAROLD. 
Dear  liege,  the  Duke  of  Normandy,  your  cousin, 


SCENE  i.]          The  Sons  of  Godwin.  125 

Claims  England  in  the  right  of  an  old  promise 

From  you  to  him ;  but  England  will  be  torn 

With  many  wounds  ere  he  can  fill  the  throne. 

Will  you  then  leave  such  heritage  of  blood 

Unto  your  kingdom  ?    Be  more  wise,  more  kind ; 

Name*  a  successor  such  that  all  may  thank 

And  bless  your  name,  you  brought  not  here  a  stranger 

To  set  his  foot  on  England's  liberties. 

KING. 

The  crowning  goodness  of  the  King  of  Heaven 
Calls  me  from  this,  my  earthly  throne,  to  kneel 
Most  humbly  at  his  greater  throne  of  grace. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Who  leaves  his  duty  unfulfilled  on  earth 

Is  not  prepared  to  kneel  before  the  throne 

Of  Him  who  portions  duty  unto  all. 

Give  us  your  answer :  Who  shall  be  our  king 

When  you  give  up  this  sceptre  and  your  crown  ? 

KING. 

Son  Harold,  wouldst  thou  sit  upon  this  throne, 
And  wear  our  majesty,  and  feel  our  woe  ? 
A  weary  burden  is  the  kingly  robe, 
u* 


126  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 

HAROLD. 

My  gracious  king,  not  for  its  majesty, 
Name,  office,  power,  will  I  sit  on  your  throne ; 
My  heart  hath  taken  a  deep,  a  mortal  wound, 
In  which  ambition  died,  and  life's  bright  hopes ; 
So  regal  power  hath  lost  its  grace  for  me : 
But  what  my  country  in  its  need  requires, 
That  will  I  do ;  and  if  to  wear  a  crown, 
Not  as  a  triumph,  but  as  holy  trust, 
Its  ring  shall  bind  my  brow.     I  do  not  seek  it ; 
Its  glitter  tempts  me  not. 

KING. 

Take  it,  son  Harold ;  none  in  all  the  land 
So  fit  as  you  to  rule.     Ye  ealdormen, 
Take  note :  the  king  bequeaths  his  crown  to  Harold — 
I  cannot  speak — this  faintness  grows  on  me. 

The  KING  sinks  back,  and  falls  into  a  sttipor. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 
The  king  is  very  ill ;  it  seems  most  fit 
To  bear  him  to  his  chamber ;  much  I  fear 
He  will  not  speak  again. 

KING. 

Starting  to  his  feet,  and  speaking  loudly. 
Ha !  Sanguelac ! 


SCENE  I.]          The  Sons  of  Godwin.  127 

The  lake  of  blood  ! — I  see  it,  oh  !  I  see  it — 

The  army  of  the  demons — Ha !  and  he 

Who  leads  them  on — I  know  those  frightful  eyes ; 

It  is  the  palmer — no — he's  clad  in  mail — 

Duke  William — Normans — demons — Help,  O  saints  ! 

Help  for  the  land  ! — A  vaunt,  ye  dreadful  spoilers  I 

The  Lord  hath  bent  his  bow ;  it  is  his  shaft — 

My  eyes  are  full  of  blood.     Help  !  help  me !  help  I 

The  KING  falls  back  info  the  arms  of  HAROLD 
and  ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 
A  warning  and  a  prophecy  of  ill. 

ARCHBISHOP  STIGAND. 

Nay,  do  you  fear  the  dreams  of  a  sick  man, 
That  thus  you  tremble,  Lords,  when  fever  flies 
With  its  strange  fancies  through  the  dizzy  brain 
Painting  fantastic,  flitting  images? 

HAROLD. 

Hush,  priest !  the  king  is  dead. 
Tableau. 


128  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 


SCENE  IL— LONDON. 

Antechamber  in  the  house  of  EARL  HAROLD. 
Enter  MOLLO. 

MOLLO. 

Now  must  I  think — what  office  will  I  have  ? 

His  chamberlain  and  treasurer  is  too  high ; 

That's  for  a  thane.     The  Master  of  the  Robes? 

That's  not  so  easy.     Or  the  Chief  of  Huntsmen  ? 

Ah  !  that's  too  active.     Something  of  profit,  honor, 

Nor  yet  too  high.     I  must  be  always  modest, 

And  make  no  enemies ;  for  my  wise  head 

Tells  me  the  best  philosophy  is  that 

Which  brings  most  comfort.     Guthlac  sighs  for  fame, 

Longs  for  the  battle  like  a  neighing  steed, 

That  he  may  capture  Fortune :  not  so  I ; 

If  Fortune  comes  I'll  shake  her  by  the  hand, 

But  never  be  so  very  impudent 

To  take  by  storm  the  maid.     To  try  and  miss 

Would  be  misfortune,  which  men  try  to  miss. 

This  household  suits  me  well ;  perhaps  the  change, 

Transforming  our  great  earl  into  a  king, 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  129 

May  spoil  a  good  earl,  make  a  so-so  king ; 

But  if  he  makes  a  good  king  or  a  bad, 

Concerns  me  not  so  much  as  this  one  thing : 

What  doth  it  bring  to  Mollo  ?    There's  the  risk. 

Why  should  I  seek  for  office  when  without  it 

I've  been  contented? — Why?     Because  of  folly. 

And  I  was  thinking — stupid  that  I  am — 

To  get  an  office — honor  ?  profit  ? — no ; 

While  here  I  eat  the  best,  and  drink  the  best, 

Sleep  on  the  softest  down,  am  free  from  care. 

How  is  my  master,  though  they  make  him  king, 

Happier  than  I  ?  his  throne  ?  his  crown  of  pearl  ? 

Who  ever  called  King  Edward  happy  king? 

They  called  him  saint  and  monk,  sometimes  blessed 

king, 

But  yet  that  blessing  never  happiness ; 
Who  ever  saw  a  smile  upon  his  brow? 
So  should  the  witan,  in  their  wisdom,  choose 
That  I,  instead  of  Harold,  be  their  king, 
I  make  my  bow,  I  give  them  my  best  thanks, 
But  say,  "  My  Lords,  oh  no ;  a  king?  not  I ; 
I'd  rather  be  a  minstrel."  Shouting  without. 

Ha,  they  come ! 

PEOPLE,  without. 

Long  live  King  Harold  ! 
F*  i 


130  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 

MOLLO. 

It  is  so ;  they  come 

To  bring  the  Earl  dead  Edward's  shining  fillet, 
A  pretty  bauble  glittering  over  cares. 

PEOPLE,  without. 
Live  England  !     Saxon  England  and  King  Harold  ! 

MOLLO. 

They  shout  for  England  first ;  that  is  themselves, 
This  noble  people —  Loud  shouting. 

Thing  with  many  mouths ; 
And  all  the  mouths  now  stretched  in  noisy  shouting. 

PEOPLE,  without. 
Long  live  King  Harold  !     Long  live  Saxon  England  ! 

MOLLO. 

A  noisy  people.     I'll  go  and  be  a  mouth 

To  shout  as  loud  as  any.  Exit  leisurely 


SCENE  in.]       The  Sons  of  Godwin.  131 


SCENE  III.— LONDON. 
Hall  in  the  house  of  EARL  HAROLD. 

EARL  HAROLD,  sifting. 

There  was  a  time  when  pure  of  heart  and  hand 

I  nursed  ambition,  not  a  wicked  scheme 

To  rise  by  others'  downfall,  but  a  hope, 

Rising  to  raise  my  country.     In  that  time 

Of  bright  anticipations  I  looked  forward 

With  delighted  hope  to  the  proud  hour,  now  near, 

When  the  great  witan  should  declare  me  king, 

Basileus  of  Britain.     Now, — how  changed 

By  my  own  errors  and  false  pride  of  judgment! 

No  hope  springs  up  elastic  in  my  heart 

To  shout  with  coming  fortune ;  but  I  wait 

Content  in  sadness  to  accept  a  duty. 

Starts  up  impatiently. 
If  I  could  drive  away  the  guilty  Past, 
Banish  the  haunting  Future,  call  up  Hope 
Again  to  crown  her  with  this  majesty 
And  name  her  Edith — this  were  happiness, 
And  this  the  day  I  dreamed  of  long  ago. 


132  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 

Impossible ! 

The  bones  of  saints  grin  at  me  in  derision. 
Enter  GUTHLAC. 

GUTHLAC. 
The  chiefs  of  England  come  to  greet  their  king. 

Enter  ARCHBISHOPS  OF  YORK  and  CANTERRURY, 
EARLS  GURTH  and  MORKAR,  thanes,  etc, 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Harold,  the  witan  chooseth  you  our  king. 
Though  not  of  Cerdic's  line,  O  son  of  Godwin, 
We  choose  you  for  your  faithful  English  heart ; 
We  choose  you  for  your  arm  of  Saxon  strength ; 
We  choose  you  for  your  valiant  Danish  blood ; 
We  choose  the  soldier  who  knows  not  defeat ; 
We  choose  the  ruler  who  is  always  just ; 
We  choose  the  statesman,  wise  and  politic. 
Hail  Harold,  King  of  England  ! 

ALL. 
Hail  Harold,  King  of  England  ! 

HAROLD. 

And  I,  most  holy  fathers,  earls  and  thanes, 
Accept  the  trust  you  proffer  to  my  hands, 


SCENE  in.]      The  Sons  of  Godwin.  133 

A  sacred  trust  from  England  and  from  God. 
Tiie  sceptre  I  will  hold  with  even  hand  ; 
Do  equal  justice  unto  high  and  low ; 
Sustain  the  law ;  restrain  all  lawlessness ; 
Build  unto  stronger  union  our  dear  land, 
Making  one  brotherhood  of  Danes  and  Saxons; 
That  England  may  rejoice  in  healthful  strength, 
And  fair  Prosperity,  with  lavish  hand, 
Pour  wealth  and  plenty  on  our  favored  island. 
So  may  I  reign  for  no  vain  pageantries 
Or  idle  pleasures,  but  my  country's  good ; 
And  God  so  judge  me  as  I  keep  this  pledge. 

HAROLD  sits.    GURTH  advances,  kneels  and  places 
his  hand  on  HAROLD'S  knee. 

GURTH. 
I  choose  you,  Harold,  for  my  lord  and  king. 

MORKAR  advances,  kneels  and  places  his  hand 
on  HAROLD'S  knee. 

MORKAR. 
I  choose  you,  Harold,  for  my  lord  and  king. 

Thanes  successively  kneel  and  place  their  hands 
on  HAROLD'S  knee. 

THANES. 
I  choose  you,  Harold,  for  my  lord  and  king. 


134  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 

ARCHBISHOP  STIGAND. 

My  liege,  your  coronation  should  proceed 
With  all  convenient  speed  ;  we  know  not  what 
A  day,  an  hour  may  bring.     Please  you  appoint 
The  time  when  all  the  rites  of  church  and  state 
May  join  to  consecrate  our  new-made  king. 
Enter  OSBALD  hastily. 

OSBALD. 
Earl  Harold,  news ! 

GURTH,  grasping  OSBALD 's  arm.     . 

Kneel,  fellow,  to  your  king. 
OSBALD  kneels,  then  rises. 

OSBALD. 

O  King,  defend  your  realm.     I  come  from  York. 

A  mighty  army  is  on  Humber's  banks ; 

The  river  white  with  ships.     Tostig,  the  fierce, 

And  the  Norwegian  king,  great  Hardrada, 

Lead  on  a  wild,  rapacious  armament. 

All  Norway  is  afoot.     From  casques  of  steel 

Adown  huge  shoulders  hangs  their  yellow  hair, 

As  round  a  lion  sweeps  his  tangled  mane ; 

They  march,  the  fierce  berserkers  of  the  North, 

With  clash  of  shields,  and  shouting  battle-songs, 


SCENE  in.]       The  Sons  of  Godwin.  135 

While  o'er  them  flap  their  frightful  raven-flags. 
O  King,  so  great  a  peril  never  came ; 
So  great  an  army  never  sought  our  shores, 
Norwegian,  Dane,  in  all  the  troubled  past. 

KING  HAROLD. 

They  shall  be  met.     Go,  Morkar,  to  your  earldom  ; 

Rouse  all  Northumberland,  and  lead  their  war 

As  once  great  Siward  led  ;  your  brother,  Edwin,   , 

Must  bring  his  Mercians.     Brave  Gurth,  your  voice 

And  Leofwine's  shall  raise  our  Kent  and  Sussex ; 

Let  our  bold  Saxons  grasp  the  sword  and  axe 

And  come  at  Harold's  call.     Ourself  in  person 

Will  levy  here.     England  shall  leap  to  arms  ; 

Make  rough  our  shore  with  graves  of  slaughtered  Norse. 

Bishops,  in  haste  I  must  be  crowned  to-night — 

To-night  in  Westminster — if  scant  the  rites. 

The  time  brooks  not  delay — a  king,  full-crowned, 

Must  lead  the  embattled  might  of  England  forth 

Against  these  fierce  forayers  of  the  North. 

In  all  your  churches  ring  the  service  bells, 

Bid  all  your  priests  send  up  their  solemn  prayers 

While  our  good  swords  cut  down  this  heathen  host. 

Go  each  and  act  as  if  on  him  alone 

His  country's  fate  were  hung. 

Exeunt  all  but  the  KING. 


1 36  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 

Now  beats  my  heart 
As  when  it  throbbed  with  sweet  entrancing  dreams : 

If  not  for  love,  I  live  for  England,  glory. 

Exit. 


SCENE  IV.— THE  COUNTRY  BEFORE  YORK. 
KING  HARDRADA,  TOSTIG  and  soldiers. 

HARDRADA. 

My  friend,  this  town  of  York,  is  it  not  crazed  ? 
It  has  no  army ;  burghers  man  its  walls ; 
If  we  let  loose  on  it  our  dogs  of  war, 
Their  very  howling  will  throw  down  its  gates  ; 
And  even  now  they  strain  upon  the  leash. 
We  may  not  hold  them  long.     Pray  tell  them  this ; 
If  then  they  open  not  their  gates  to  us 
There  will  be  wailing  of  their  wives  and  daughters 
When  Norway  storms  their  walls — what  do  they  mean  ? 

TOSTIG. 

Most  valiant  Hardrada,  our  Englishmen 
Have  not  been  taught  to  yield  ;  they  find  it  hard 
To  learn  such  lesson.     Give  them  time,  my  friend ; 
Nor  spoil  the  thing  that  surely  will  be  ours. 


SCENE  iv.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  137 

HARDRADA. 

They  shall  have  time.     It  is  a  goodly  land, 
This  England,  and  we  like  it  passing  well ; 
We  hear  the  king  is  sick ;  his  idle  throne, 
Useless  unto  a  sick  man,  waits  for  us ; 
And  we  will  take  it.     Is  there  any  army 
Or  chief  that  dares  to  meet  our  Northern  host, 
To  match  his  strength  against  King  Hardrada? 

TOSTIG. 

The  king  is  naught,  but  standing  by  his  throne 
Is  Harold  Godwinson,  my  father's  son  ; 
'Tis  he  will  lead  the  army.     Dream  not,  King, 
Harold  will  fly  because  your  warriors  shout ; 
Save  all  your  strength  ;  use  all  your  boasted  skill ; 
We  shall  need  both  when  Harold  brings  us  war. 

HARDRADA. 

My  friend,  we've  lived  and  fought  in  many  lands; 
Faced  the  fierce  Scythian,  Saracen  and  Turk  ; 
Met  the  wild  horsemen  of  the  Asian  plains; 
Fought  in  Caucasian  mountains  savage  men 
As  rude  as  shaggy  bears;  but  ne'er  have  seen 
In  any  land  such  warriors  as  we  bring 
Into  this  war  from  Norway's  stormy  coasts. 

12* 


138  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 

Behold  their  brows,  how  wide ;  their  eyes,  how  fierce  j 
Their  shaggy  hair,  their  stature  huge  and  tall — 
Each  stands,  a  giant  portraiture  of  Thor ; 
They'll  kill  and  eat  your  stunted  Englishmen. 

TOSTIG. 

Believe  it  not ;  I  too  have  been  a  rover, 

And  looked  on  warriors  of  the  East  and  North ; 

Our  Englishmen  fight  well,  I  warn  you,  Hardrada. 

HARDRADA. 

See  you  yon  clouds  of  dust  ?  there  are  armed  men ; 
I  catch  the  glitter  of  their  mail  and  arms 
Emerging  from  the  wood ;  it  is  a  host. 

TOSTIG. 

I  see  them,  King ;  look  where  yon  banner  flies — 
Now,  by  Saint  Swithin  !  as  I  truly  think, 
'Tis  Harold  leads  the  might  of  England  hither. 
Marshal  your  force ;  arrange  your  battle-lines  ; 
You  soon  will  see  how  Englishmen  can  fight. 

HARDRADA. 

Bring  up  my  banner.     Plant  the  standard  here. 
Earl  Tostig,  ride  with  speed  along  our  host 
Upon  the  right ;  the  left  shall  be  my  care ; 


SCENE  v.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  139 

Swing  back  the  flank  till  like  a  crescent  moon 
Or  reaper's  sickle  curves  our  gleaming  line ; 
Thus  we  will  gain  this  island-throne  to-day, 
Loosing  our  hungry  ban-dogs  in  the  land. 

Exit  HARDRADA. 

TOSTIG. 
Now  will  the  Wolf  s-head  win  his  own  again ; 

Or  else — good-night  to  Tostig. 

Exit. 


SCENE   V.— THE  COUNTRY  BEFORE  YORK. 

Another  part  of  the  field. 
Enter  SEXWULF,  armed  with  a  Saxon  boar-spear. 

SEXWULF. 

No  one  sees  me ;  now  if  I  reach  the  wood 
I  shall  be  safe ;  but  if  they  see  and  follow 
It  will  be  thought  that  I  have  fled  from  fear — 
From  fear  ?    What  should  I  be  afraid  of?     Death  ? 
A  slave's  life — humph  !    Wherefore  should  he  save  life  ? 
For  himself?  no,  he  doth  not  own  himself; 
Then  for  his  master? — fool,  to  take  such  trouble; 


140  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 

Yet,  spite  of  reason,  he  defends  his  life 

As  if  'twere  something  that  was  worth  his  having. 

Here  is  all  England  come  to  fight  the  Norsemen  ; 

Some  fight  for  honor,  lands,  home,  wife  and  children, 

And  the  slaves  fight  because  their  masters  bid  them ; 

But  Sexwulf  does  not — lands,  home,  wife  and  children 

He  has  not ;  nor  will  fight  when  he  is  bidden. 

Time  was, — no— no ;  why  do  I  think  of  it  ? — 

When  Sexwulf's  children  hung  about  his  knees, 

And  his  wife  met  him  with  a  welcoming  eye — 

No — no ;  I'll  not  remember  it ;  'tis  past : 

A  slave,  what  should  he  do  with  wife  or  children  ? 

And  yet  he  had  a  heart  to  love,  to  hope, 

To  grieve,  alas !     When  they  despoiled  his  home, 

Robbed  him  of  wife  and  children,  Sexwulf  wept ; 

And,  though  a  slave,  suffered  as  suffer  men. 

Since  then, — ah,  many,  many,  weary  years  ! — 

No  voice  hath  cheered  him  with  kind  word,  save  one 

Whom  Sexwulf  followed  as  a  dog,  his  master, 

Content  to  be  a  slave  because  he  loved ; 

But  him  they  killed — Cuthbert,  my  friend,  my  master, 

Hunted  to  death  by  Tostig's  savage  band  ! 

Now  Sexwulf  threatens  Tostig — a  slave,  an  earl. 

How  would  this  son  of  Godwin  curl  his  lip, 

His  scornful  lip,  at  a  slave's  enmity, 

And  kick  me,  like  a  dog,  out  of  his  lordly  way, 


SCENE  v.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  141 

Nor  deign  to  turn  his  sharp  sword's  point  on  me, 
Too  good  a  death  to  give  a  base-born  slave  ! 
Cannot  a  slave  then  haply  kill  an  earl  ? 
Strip  them  of  trappings,  both  are  men  alike ; 
Both  built  by  Nature  of  her  stuff  for  men. 
I  dare  not  face  him — do  I  then  lack  courage  ? 
No ;  armor,  skill  and  weapons.     I  must  lurk 
Waiting  for  chance,  that  serves  the  base-born  slave 
As  well  as  the  great  earl,  to  come  behind, 
And  strike  him  through  his  armor.     Ha,  away  ! 
I  hear  the  clash  of  arms  and  tramp  of  feet — 
How  coward-like  I  fly  from  every  sound, 
Yet  boast  of  killing  earls  1 

Enter  on  one  side  GUTHLAC,  on  the  other  KING 
HARDRADA,  TOSTIG  and  soldiers.  SEXWULF, 
attempting  to  fly,  is  stopped  by  TOSTIG. 

Caught  like  a  wolf-cub  in  a  silly  snare. 

TOSTIG. 
Speak;  what  art  thou? 

SEXWULF. 
Sexwulf,  the  slave. 


TOSTIG. 

A  slave — 


What  makes  you  here  ? 


142  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 

SEXWULF. 

They  whipped  me,  and  I  fled  ; 
If  I  must  fight,  I'll  fight  against  my  country 
Like  great  Earl  Tostig,  joined  with  Norway's  ranks. 

GUTHLAC,  aside. 

A  cutting  sarcasm,  though  the  slave  knows  not 
How  sharp  a  sting  he  plants  in  Tostig's  breast 
Despite  of  sword-proof  mail. 

HARDRADA. 

A  sullen  knave ;  his  welcome  will  be  rude 
Among  our  free-born  warriors. 

TOSTIG. 

Slave,  begone ! 

Exit  SEXWULF. 

Thane  Guthlac,  wherefore  come  you  to  our  host  ? 

GUTHLAC. 
A  message  to  Earl  Tostig  from  the  king. 

TOSTIG. 

What  king  ?    Here  standeth  one,  King  Hardrada, 
Whose  sword  hath  cut  for  him  the  golden  round 


SCENE  v.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  143 

Of  sovereignty,  nor  yet  hath  dulled  its  edge. 
What  king  ? 

GUTHLAC. 
King  Harold. 

TOSTIG. 

Is  it  so,  indeed  ? 
What  have  you  done  with  Edward,  that  sweet  saint? 

GUTHLAC. 
King  Edward's  dead. 

HARDRADA. 
Poor  king. 

TOSTIG. 

Harold,  a  king  1 

HARDRADA. 
'Twas  not  worth  while ;  his  reign  will  not  be  long. 

TOSTIG. 
What  message  to  me  from  the  King  of  England  ? 

GUTHLAC. 

King  Harold  sends  his  greeting  to  his  brother: 
He  shall  have  peace,  his  friendship  as  of  old 
And  all  his  ancient  honors. 


144  The  Sons  of  Godwin  [ACT  iv. 

TOSTIG. 

It  is  well ; 

The  Wolf  s-head  asks  no  more.     What  will  he  give 
To  my  best  friend  and  ally,  Hardrada, 
Who  thus  hath  brought  the  Wolfs  head  back  to  grace  ? 
What  shall  this  warlike  King  of  Norway  have  ? 

GUTHLAC. 
A  grave  in  England's  soil. 

HARDRADA. 

Ha !  says  he  so  ? 

TOSTIG. 

Go  back  to  Harold ;  give  him  this  from  me : 
Tostig  hath  made  his  league  with  Norway's  king, 
And,  come  what  may,  he  will  abide  the  chance 
To  win  or  fall  by  brave  Hardrada' s  side ; 
He  should  have  sent  me  offers  long  ago ; 
It  is  too  late  to-day. 

GUTHLAC. 

King  Hardrada, 

Thus  sai-th  the  King  of  England :  quit  the  land, 
You  and  your  pirate  horde,  or  he  will  sweep 
All  your  Norwegian  scum  into  the  sea  j 
And  Norway's  widows,  with  lamenting  wail, 


SCENE  vi.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  145 

Shall  drown  the  roar  of  billows  as  they  roll 
In  noisy  tumult  on  your  northern  strands. 

HARDRADA. 

Tell  your  king  this :  Words  fright  not  Hardrada, 
Whose  ear  hath  heard  the  Asian  lion  roar, 
And  the  wild  Tartars  of  the  desert  yell ; 

We  come  to  fight.     Go  back  and  tell  him  so. 

Exeunt. 


SCENE  VI.— THE  COUNTRY  NEAR  YORK. 

The  battle-field.     Alarums.     Enter  KING  HAROLD  and 
soldiers. 

KING  HAROLD. 

Their  lines  are  broken.     Far  along  the  right 
The  gallant  Leofwine  rides  down  their  host 
With  England's  cavalry ;  upon  the  left 
The  men  of  Kent  and  Sussex,  led  by  Gurth, 
Have  driven  back  their  line. 

Enter  GURTH. 

O  my  brave  Gurth, 

Thou  art  a  warrior  of  the  antique  stamp ! 
How  goes  the  day  ? 

G  K  13 


146  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 

GURTH. 

Brother,  the  day  is  ours ; 
King  Hardrada  is  down,  wounded  or  dead, 
And  all  his  Norsemen  fly,  while  Leofwine 
Tramples  their  host  beneath  his  horsemen's  feet : 
It  is  a  rout ;  to  Stanford  bridge  they  fly, 
And  o'er  it  to  their  ships. 

Enter  GUTHLAC. 

KING  HAROLD.  - 

What  news,  good  Guthlac  ? 

GUTHLAC. 

The  day  is  ours ;  King  Hardrada  is  slain — 
A  random  arrow  struck  the  Norway  king, 
And  pierced  his  throat;  he  clutched  and  broke  the 

shaft, 

Gasped  thrice,  and  died ;  I  caught  him  when  he  fell, 
And  bade  the  soldiers  bring  his  body  here. 

KING  HAROLD. 

He  was  the  victor  of  a  thousand  fights  ; 
His  name  is  known  on  the  far  Caspian  shores, 
Along  the  Volga,  by  the  Danube,  Elbe, 
And  everywhere  alike  a  conqueror ; 
Yet  he  comes  here  to  die :  thus  slain  by  chance, 


SCENE  vi.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  147 

The  random  arrow  he  escaped  so  oft — 
Why  was  he  not  content  with  Norway's  throne  ? 
Now  all  his  land  is  but  his  length  of  earth. 
Enter  a  soldier. 

SOLDIER. 

My  liege,  I  come  from  Leofwine.     Our  right 
Now  rests  at  Stanford  bridge ;  o'er  which  in  flight 
Pours  the  Norwegian  host,  save  those  who  lie, 
Bleeding  and  dead,  in  piles  along  the  way. 

KING  HAROLD. 

Cannot  brave  Leofwine  secure  the  bridge  ? 
Why  do  we  tarry  with  the  field  half  won  ? 

SOLDIER. 

Before  the  bridge  stands  Tostig  like  a  god, 
And  all  go  down  before  his  gleaming  sword ; 
Up  to  the  bridge  the  Norsemen  stragglers  fly 
From  centre,  right  and  left ;  he  keeps  his  post, 
While  round  him  cluster  a  devoted  band 
On  which  our  soldiers  charge,  but  charge  in  vain  ; 
Like  Odin's  self,  he  drives  them  fiercely  back, 
Still  holds  the  bridge,  and  saves  his  flying  host. 
So  Leofwine,  who  will  not  fight  his  brother, 
Begs  you  to  send  a  messenger  of  peace. 


148  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 

KING  HAROLD. 

Ill-fated  Tostig,  great  amid  defeat ! 

Guthlac,  go  you,  and  proffer  from  us  peace ; 

Peace  unto  him  and  all  his  flying  host : 

Tell  him,  good  Guthlac,  that  his  brothers'  hearts 

Are  open  to  him  still.     Come,  friends,  away ; 

Gather  our  force ;  the  foe  may  turn  again. 

Exeunt. 


SCENE  VII.— BEFORE   STANFORD   BRIDGE. 
TOSTIG,  leaning  on  his  sword. 

TOSTIG. 

Here  ends  the  day ;  the  brave  Hardrada  slain, 
And  with  him  half  his  host;  the  rest,  dismayed, 
Beyond  the  Derwent  gather  into  bands 
Marching  toward  their  ships.     What  now  remains 
For  Tostig  ?     Shall  he  join  the  flying  host, 
And  purchase  life  with  loss  of  name  and  honor  ? — 
Vanquished !  by  Heaven,  it  galls  me  worse  than  death  !— 
A  thing  for  scorn  to  mock  at !     Men  will  say 
"  Hardrada  won,  if  not  the  battle,  glory, 
Dying  a  soldier's  death  upon  the  field ; 
But  Tostig  fled,  as  flies  the  frightened  wolf, 
His  braver  comrade  slain." 


SCENE  vii.]       The  Sons  of  Godwin.  149 

Hardrada's  death  will  give  him  deathless  fame, 
But  Tostig's  flight,  a  monument  of  shame. 
Great  King  of  Norway,  your  renown,  death-bought, 
Tostig  will  share ;  and  when  they  tune  their  harps 
To  sing  the  valiant  deeds  of  Sigurd's  son, 
One  verse  at  least  shall  tell  how  Tostig  fell, 
More  fearing  shame  than  death.     They  come  again — 
Ho  !  Norway  !  Norway  ! 
TOSTIG  springs  forward  and  meets  GUTHLAC  entering. 

GUTHLAC. 

Nay,  it  is  peace  I  bring.     Thus  saith  the  king: 
His  former  proffers  doth  he  now  renew, 
Peace  unto  you  and  all  the  Norway  host ; 
He  offers  you  your  place  within  his  heart 
And  all  your  ancient  honors  in  the  land. 

TOSTIG. 

And  doth  he  think  I  am  so  poor  a  thing 
To  creep  up  to  his  feet  like  a  whipped  dog  ? 
He  may  give  peace,  but  Tostig  will  not  take  it. 
I  stand  at  bay,  though  all  my  host  be  fled, 
And  still  defy  your  England  ;  I  can  die, 
But  will  not  yield,  nor  take  your  proffered  peace — 
No  truce.     Strike,  thane  ! 

They  fight.     SEXWULF  enters >  crouching  at  back, 
-waiting  an  opportunity  to  strike  TOSTIG. 
13* 


150  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  iv. 

SEXWULF,  aside. 

I  spy  a  broken  link  in  Tostig's  mail ; 
This  is  my  chance  to  kill  him. 

SEXWULF  advances  and  strikes  his  spear  into 
TOSTIG'S  back.  TOSTIG  turns  and  kills  him; 
then  leans  heavily  on  his  sword. 

TOSTIG. 

Killed  by  a  slave — at  last  to  die  a  dog's  death ; 
And  I,  an  earl — Glory,  I  ever  sought  thee, 
And  thou  hast  baffled  me  at  last — at  last ! 
But  none  can  say  that  Tostig  ever  feared  ; 
He  dies,  like  Danish  jarl,  with  sword  in  hand, 
And  in  his  mail.     Ah,  Death,  thy  tooth  is  sharp; 
It  bites  my  heart ;  but  I  defy  thee  still ! — 
Ho,  thane,  strike  on  ! 

TOSTIG  attempts  to  brandish  his  sword,  but  falls 
and  dies. 

GUTHLAC. 

Brave  as  a  lion's,  Tostig,  was  your  heart, 
But  scarce  less  cruel  than  the  king  of  beasts'  j 
Your  life  ends  here,  but  long  will  live  your  story 
Brightening  with  valor's  lustre  evil  deeds.  Exit. 


ACT  v.]  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  151 


ACT  V. 
SCENE  I.— YORK. 

A  spacious  hall.    Soldiers  banqueting     KING  HAROLD 
sitting  apart. 

FIRST  SOLDIER. 

Drink,  friends,  the  foaming  ale,  and  thank  your  stars 
You  were  not  eaten  by  these  Norway  giants. 

SECOND  SOLDIER. 

Giants  indeed,  man-eaters  like  enough ; 
For  when  I  saw  the  huge  Norwegians  run, 
It  brought  back  to  my  mind  that  silly  tale 
Of  childhood's  wonder,  him  of  the  seven-leagued  boots. 

ALL.  • 
Ha-ha ! — ha-ha ! 

FIRST  SOLDIER. 

Old  seven-leagued  boots — that's  good ;  but  did  you  mark 
What  manes  these  Norsemen  have? 


152  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

THIRD  SOLDIER. 

Sea-lions'  manes; 

Yes,  they  have  grown  these  shaggy  fells  of  hair 
In  purpose  of  this  visit,  to  affright  us ; 
But,  finding  we  remain  unterrified, 
Have  back  returned  to  grow  them  bigger  manes. 

SECOND  SOLDIER. 
But  some  will  mnane  here. 

ALL. 

Oh!  oh!— ha-ha! 

FIRST  SOLDIER. 

We'll  drink  a  pleasant  journey  to  them,  friends; 
Fill  up  the  cups  with  ale. 

ALL. 
We  drink  to  them. 

KING  HAROLD. 

Life — a  short  day — an  interval  between 
Nothing  and  darkness — flitting  consciousness, 
Vivid  and  startling  as  the  lightning's  flash  ; 
And  like  that  blinding  glare  beholding  all, 
But  in  an  instant  gone  beyond  recall. 


SCENE  i.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  153 

Death — a  grim  phantom  ever  haunting  Life — 
The  Night  that  swallows  Day — a  frightful  pause — 
The  black  rever.se  of  Glory's  shining  shield — 
Life's  opposite,  whose  emblem  is  the  grave. 
Life,  Death — the  two  conditions  of  one  thing, 
Whose  margins  meet ;  which  is  the  normal  state? 
Which  real,  and  which  the  shadow  ? — which  is  health  ? 
And  which  disease?  to-day  we  have  the  one, 
To-morrow  comes  the  other — a  slave's  spear, 
A  random  arrow,  some  disastrous  chance, 
And  on  this  day  of  life,  a  black  eclipse. 
To  him  who  dies,  it  is  as  if  the  world, 
This  solid,  steadfast  earth,  on  which  is  writ 
Forever  in  its  sunshine,  at  a  touch 
Melted  again  in  chaos.     And  what  then  ? 
The  future,  grandly  pictured  by  the  church, 
Is  it  a  fact  or  fable  ?  Let  that  pass. 
O  Tostig  !  where  thy  valor  now,  thy  strength, 
Daring  ambitions  built  above  all  hope  ? 
Two  days  ago  thou  wast  elate  with  life, 
Now  as  inert  and  senseless  as  the  sod 
Cut  by  thy  heels'  sharp  track. 
And  I  must  meet  my  mother ;  her  last  words, 
"  Harold,  be  merciful  unto  my  son," 
Ring  in  my  ears ;  but  louder  than  her  words 
Fate  called  to  him.     He  fell,  as  falls  a  star— 
G* 


154  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

Across  the  heavens  a  bright  and  gleaming  track, 
Then  quenched  its  light  forever.     So  to  me, 
My  soul  forewarns,  will  come  the  shaft  of  death. 

The  sound  of  laughter  is  heard. 
My  thoughts  suit  not  this  revelry.     Thy  ghost, 
My  brother,  seems  to  sit  in  joyless  gloom 
Among  these  feasters,  and  my  ear,  intent, 
Listens  to  catch  thy  tones.     Ho  !  bring  me  wine. 

Enter  EARL  GURTH. 

Your  brow,  my  brother,  wears  no  festive  smile ; 
Why  do  you  slight  the  feast  ? 

GURTH. 

Harold,  my  heart 

Would  not  rejoice,  nor  fill  with  gayety. 
Despite  my  knowledge  of  his  fatal  end 
I  looked  for  Tostig  in  each  feaster's  face, 
Listened  to  hear  his  voice  in  every  sound, 
And,  thus  disturbed,  could  find  no  comfort  here, 
But  sought  the  night-air's  pure,  refreshing  breath 
To  cool  the  fever  burning  on  my  brow. 

KING  HAROLD. 

Your  words  reflect  the  image  of  my  thoughts ; 
My  mind,  as  yours,  dear  Gurth,  is  tortured  still 
With  his  remembrance.     Did  the  night-air  calm 


SCENE  i.]          The  Sons  of  Godwin.  155 

Your  fevered  pulse  ?  dissolve  the  cloudy  spell 
Of  the  enchanter,  Memory? 

GURTH. 

Not  so ; 

Too  still  the  night :  its  solemn  quiet  thrills, 
Not  calms  me.  High  in  mid-heaven  the  moon  shines  full, 
But  pale  her  beams,  and  pale  the  stars  peep  out ; 
For  in  the  northern  sky,  blood-red  and  bright, 
Flashes  our  frightful  visitant.     Methought, 
As  on  that  red  usurper  of  the  night 
I  fixed  my  eyes,  it  threatened  from  the  sky 
Some  strange  calamity,  more  dread,  alas  ! 
Than  this  at  which  we  groan. 

KING  HAROLD. 

It  is  enough 

That  this  red  comet  sets  its  fatal  sign 
Upon  the  heavens  to  mark  our  brother's  death, 
Or  shines,  the  doom-star  of  King  Hardrada : 
What  should  it  more? 

GURTH. 

Harold,  I  know  not  what ; 
But  when  I  look  upon  that  lurid  star 
With  its  broad  trail  of  fire,  thus  making  pale 
Night's  gleaming  lights,  and  flouting  the  calm  moon, 


156  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

I  feel  a  threat  of  yet  impending  ill. 

Brother,  do  you  remember  Edward's  dying  cry 

Of  Sanguelac? 

The  fiery  star  repeats  in  every  ray 

That  warning  cry  to  my  unquiet  soul. 

Enter  a  Messenger  in  haste. 

MESSENGER. 

O  King,  the  Normans  are  on  Sussex'  shore — 
Duke  William  and  his  host — as  numberless 
As  are  the  stars  in  heaven  or  the  sea-sands. 

KING  HAROLD. 

This  is  the  peril  that  the  star  portends. 
O  Gurth,  my  soul,  prophetic  as  the  star, 
Hath  looked  each  hour  for  this.     Now,  shadows,  fly ; 
The  certain  presence  of  the  direful  fact 
Scatters  your  phantoms,  fills  my  heart  with  strength  I 
Where  did  the  Norman  land  ? 

MESSENGER. 

At  Pevensey, 

My  Lord,  he  disembarked ;  the  archers  first, 
Then  knights  and  men  in  mail  poured  from  his  ships 
Till  the  wide  sands  glittered  with  shining  steel, 
As  when,  a  light  breeze  ruffling  its  broad  breast, 
The  ocean  shines  with  gleam  of  myriad  waves. 


SCENE  ii.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  157 

KING  HAROLD. 
Do  they  bring  horse,  or  are  the  knight?  afoot? 

MESSENGER. 

So  many  steeds  were  never  seen  before ; 
Their  neighing  sounds  tumultuous  o'er  the  sands. 

KING  HAROLD. 

Give  o'er  the  feast ;  muster  our  host  to  arms ; 
We  march  to-night ;  and  the  red  comet's  blaze 
Shall  light  us  on  our  way.     As  Norway  fell, 
So  shall  the  Norman.     No  abiding-place 

Hath  England  for  the  invader  but  a  grave. 

Exeunt. 


SCENE   II.— WALTHAM   ABBEY. 

The  chapel. 
Enter  EDITH,  and  kneels  before  an  image  of  the  Virgin. 

EDITH. 

O  virgin-mother  of  Christ  crucified, 
Heal  the  deep  wounds  that  bleed  continual  here ; 
Thou  wast  a  woman,  and  once  loved  perchance — 
Oh,  pity  me,  and  still  my  beating  heart  1 
14 


158  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

Rises. 

I  cannot  pray  as  the  calm  sisters  pray 
With  naught  but  pure  devotion  in  their  souls ; 
My  prayers  come  all  too  fiery,  and  offend 
This  holy  place  with  wild,  impassioned  thoughts. 
Where  is  the  comfort  promised  to  my  breast 
In  tranquil  cloister-walls  ?    I  find  it  not ; 
But  a  tumultuous  conflict  raging  here 
Beyond  my  power  to  quell ;  no  comfort ;  pain — 
A  fever  burning  ever  in  my  blood — 
Strange  phantasms  in  my  brain ;  for  oftentimes 
I  see  weird  figures  round  me,  staring  eyes 
That  look  on  me  with  cold,  unaltering  gaze, 
Seeming  so  real,  they  fright  me ;  but  anon 
They  fade  away,  dissolving  like  a  dream ; 
And  then  I  know  these  phantoms  have  their  life 
In  the  hot  brain  of  fever.     Why,  alas  ! 
May  I  not  feel  the  calm  and  still  content 
Of  duty  done  so  loyally  and  wisely  ? — 
Wisely  ?     Yes — yes ;  to  think  it  was  not  wise 
To  give  him  up,  were  madness,  now  'tis  done. 
They  told  me  there  would  come  a  holy  peace 
Here  in  my  heart  when  I  was  wed  to  Heaven — 
Why  comes  it  not?  why  must  I  think  of  him, 
When  now  to  think  is  sin  ?     I  strive  to  pray, 
But  mid  my  prayers  comes  up  his  kingly  face, 


SCENE  ii.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  159 

And  his  upbraiding  eyes  are  fixed  on  me 
Till  prayers  are  changed  to  deep,  heart-heaving  sighs. 
Why  can  I  not  forget  ?     These  walls  are  cold ; 
The  marble  floor  is  chill ;  but  yet  I  burn. 
Oh,  would  that  I  were  cold  as  this  cold  stone, 
As  senseless  too  !     I  must  still  think  of  him. 
Enter  the  ABBESS. 

ABBESS. 

Prayest  thou,  sister  Edith,  for  our  land 

And  those  who  fight  against  the  heathen  host, 

Blind  worshipers  of  Odin  and  of  Thor? 

EDITH. 
I  pray  for  peace. 

ABBESS. 

Pray  to  the  saints,  my  child, 
That  all  the  land  may  have  such  holy  peace 
As  clothes  us,  sisters,  in  these  cloisters  sweet. 

EDITH. 

Mother,  to  duty  I  have  yielded  me, 

But  peace  comes  not ;  I  pray  for  it  in  vain. 

ABBESS. 
No  peace  in  your  pure  heart — child,  why  is  this? 


160  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

EDITH. 

I  am  not  pure ;  I  cannot  tear  my  thoughts 
From  the  remembrance  of  the  world  I've  left. 

ABBESS. 
Pray — pray,  my  child ;  'tis  prayer  that  cureth  all — 

Enter  a  priest  in  haste. 
Why  do  you  come  in  such  unseemly  haste  ? 

PRIEST. 

The  Archbishop  bids  you  and  your  holy  nuns 

Send  up  your  prayers  to  Heaven's  high  throne  of  grace 

To  shield  the  land  from  peril  most  extreme. 

From  Normandy  a  vast,  Philistine  host 

Hath  come  upon  our  shores ;  the  king  in  haste 

Hurries  to  Sussex  with  the  wearied  bands 

Which  late  he  led  in  battle  with  fierce  Norway ; 

Spent  with  sore  marches  and  the  recent  battle, 

His  army  is  much  wasted.     Pray,  O  nuns, 

For  never  yet  came  peril  to  our  land 

So  great  as  this ;  except  the  angels  fight 

Upon  our  side,  there  is  no  hope  of  help 

For  England  else.     Then  raise  your  solemn  prayers, 

O  holy  nuns,  your  supplications  make 

To  Heaven's  benignant  saints. 


SCENE  IL]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  161 

ABBESS. 

Alas,  alas,  that  man  should  still  slay  man  ! 
Go,  priest,  and  bid  them  ring  the  Abbey  bells ; 
I  haste  to  call  our  sisters  unto  prayer. 

Exeunt  ABBESS  and  priest. 

EDITH. 

What  said  the  priest  ? — Harold  is  on  his  march 
To  meet  a  great  Philistine  host  from  Normandy, 
And  England  needs  the  prayers  of  priest  and  nun 
In  her  great  peril  ?  Oh,  away,  black  doubts  ! 
Why  do  you  come,  with  whispers  in  my  ears, 
Foretelling  Harold's  death  ?     Alas,  my  soul, 
This  is  a  shadow  blacker  than  the  night 
Surrounding  you  ! — his  death — I  cannot  rest ; 
I  cannot  pray ;  I  think  alone  of  Harold ; 
I  feel  his  doom  here  in  my  poor,  lone  breast 
That  once  was  gay  with  happy  love  for  him — 
Still  do  I  sin,  a  nun,  to  think  of  love  j 
I  still  remember  when  I  should  forget. 

0  Harold,  if  I  could  but  see  you  once, 
Once  more  ere  death  shall  join  or  sunder  us, 

1  might  die  happy  !  why  should  I  stay  here  ? 
They  told  me  peace  would  come,  and  it  comes  not. 
I  know  that  I  must  die ;  why  may  I  not 

Look  once  again  on  Harold  ere  I  die? 
L  14* 


1 62  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

If  it  be  sin,  I  cannot  help  but  sin, 
For  I  must  think  of  him — Yes,  I  will  go 
While  now  confusion  so  disturbs  the  Abbey 
That  none  will  think  of  me. 

Kneels  at  the  crucifix. 

I  sought  for  peace 

Here  at  thy  feet,  O  holy  Son  of  Him 
Who  made  all  human  hearts,  all  woes,  all  pains 
And  life  for  sacrifice  ;  but  found  it  not  : 
Then  pardon  if  I  wander  forth  alone 
To  look  upon  his  face  again  and  die ! 

Kisses  the  crucifix, 
Pardon — oh,  pardon  for  this  last,  great  sin  ! 

EDITH  lays  down  her  head  at  the  foot  of  the  cru- 
cifix. 


SCENE   III.— SENLAC. 

The  camp  of  the  English — before  the  king's  tent.  Even- 
ing. Soldiers  and  HUGH  MARGOT.  Enter  the 
KING,  EARL  GURTH,  and  ARCHBISHOPS  of  YORK 
and  CANTERBURY. 

SOLDIER  to  HUGH  MARGOT. 
Kneel  to  the  king. 


SCENE  in.]       The  Sons  of  Godwin.  163 

MARGOT. 

Soldier,  unto  no  king, 

Except  the  King  of  heaven,  Hugh  Margot  kneels. 
I  come  to  Harold  from  the  Norman  camp ; 
Thus  saith  Duke  William  :   "  To  fair  Normandy 
Earl  Harold  came  as  guest,  and  swore  an  oath 
At  Edward's  death  to  be  Duke  William's  man, 
And  place  him  on  this  throne.     The  Duke  hath  come 
To  take  his  throne ;  let  Harold  give  the  help 
That  he  hath  sworn." 

KING  HAROLD. 

Go  tell  the  wolf,  your  master, 

Although  his  scheme  goes  on,  and  you  have  brought 
This,  my  denial,  as  he  looks  to  have  it, 
A  Saxon  king  awaits  him  sword  in  hand ; 
So  let  him  cast  away  the  fox's  hide 
Whose  mask  hath  served  his  purpose  long  enough, 
And  come  with  wolfish  visage  plain  in  view 
To  take  the  advantage  that  his  craft  hath  won. 
Of  broken  oaths,  say  this  to  him  :  in  his  trap 
Was  Harold  caught,  and  took  to  save  himself— 
A  lawful  means  when  life  thus  stands  in  peril — 
Such  oath  as  was  prescribed  ;  that  oath  the  church 
Hath  since  annulled  ;  'twas  void,  because  compelled, 
Without  the  help  of  church  ;  nor  rests  with  Harold 


164  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

The  power  to  give  away  this  island  crown ; 
'Tis  not  a  thing  to  toss  from  hand  to  hand, 
But  rests  securely  fixed  upon  his  head 
The  witan  chooseth. 

MARGOT. 

These  are  empty  words ; 
I  come  not  here  to  learn  your  country's  laws, 
But  to  demand  of  you  in  William's  name 
Your  solemn  oath  and  this  your  stolen  crown. 

KING  HAROLD. 

Insolent  priest !  but  for  your  g'own  and  cowl 

You  should  be  scourged  back  to  the  Norman  camp. 

We  do  refuse ;  he  shall  not  have  the  crown 

Till  from  these  shoulders  he  hath  hacked  the  head, 

And  pltfcked  its  circle  from  a  dead  king's  helm. 

MARGOT. 

The  Duke,  anticipating  such  deceit 
And  the  perfidious  voiding  of  your  oath, 
Gives  this  last  choice :  first,  to  retain  the  crown, 
His  greatest  vassal ;  second,  to  the  Pope 
Refer  your  cause  ;  or  third,  the  high  appeal 
To  Heaven  by  single  battle  with  the  Duke. 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  165 

KING  HAROLD. 

Our  cause  we  leave  with  Heaven,  but  will  not  stand 
Like  one  accused  of  crime  to  champion  it 
With  single  might ;  nor  wear  a  vassal  crown  ; 
Nor  bow  us  to  the  policy  of  Rome : 
But  at  the  head  of  England's  loyal  hearts 
Will  meet  the  Duke.     If  God  will  have  it  so, 
Then  William  may  be  king;  but  not  until 
King  Death  hath  made  a  subject  of  King  Harold. 

MARGOT. 

Thus  ends  my  mission  from  the  Norman  Duke : 
He  sends  you  his  defiance,  and  will  come 
With  sword  and  spear  to  take  your  crown  to-morrow. 
Now  stand  I  forth  the  chosen  messenger 
Of  one  more  high  than  he.     Pope  Alexander 
Sends  thus  to  Harold  :  keep  your  sacred  oath, 
Sworn  upon  holy  relics  of  the  saints, 
With  due  obedience  as  a  hallowed  thing, 
The  which  to  break,  were  foulest  sacrilege, 
Rank  disobedience  to  the  church  and  God, 
Or  on  your  guilty  head  he  bids  me  place 
The  anathema  of  church — 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Priest,  stay  your  words ; 


1 66  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

His  holiness  knows  not  that  this  rash  oath 

Hath  been  absolved  by  church,  due  penance  paid, 

And  thus  the  sin  atoned. 

MARGOT. 

And  who  art  thou, 

A  bishop  to  oppose  the  head  of  church, 
To  cast  contempt  upon  the  holy  saints, 
To  absolve  the  vows  upon  their  relics  sworn 
Without  due  sanction  and  the  seal  of  Rome  ? — 
Thy  act  is  void ;  it  doth  recoil  on  thee  ; 
Beware  !  for  so  thou  shar'st  with  him  the  doom 
Pronounced  by  Rome. 

To  KING  HAROLD. 

If  from  this  hour  you  dare, 
O  Harold,  wage  with  Heaven  an  impious  war, 
Upon  such  act  is  set  a  curse,  whose  blight 
Will  wither  up  your  crown  as  perisheth 
A  leaf  in  autumn,  or  some  useless  scroll 
Lapped  by  red  tongues  of  hungry  furnace  flames. 
Nor  you  alone,  but  all  who  hold  with  you, 
Friends,  kindred — yea,  the  realm  that  calls  you  king — 

KING  HAROLD. 

Now,  by  Saint  Swithin  !  priest,  you  pluck  the  stars 
Upon  your  head. — My  guards. — Unless  immortal, 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  167 

Call  on  Saint  Peter;  you  will  need  his  help 
To  draw  your  cowled  head  from  the  lion's  jaws. 

Soldiers  come  forward  and  surround  HUGH  MARCOT. 
Strip  off  this  caitiff's  gown. 

MARGOT. 

What  will  you  do  ? 

KING  HAROLD. 
Hang  you  upon  a  tree,  and  send  your  ears 

To  your  two  masters. 

GURTH. 

Brother,  it  is  a  priest, 

And  you,  a  king.     'Twould  sully  you  to  harm  him. 
Let  him  go  free ;  he  is  beneath  your  anger. 
Your  kingly  scorn  will  carry  shame  to  them 
That  stooped  so  low  to  send  this  creature  hither 
With  base  attack  upon  your  majesty ; 
Another  snare  by  crafty  cunning  set. 

KING  HAROLD,  to  soldiers. 
Take  him  away,  and  thrust  him  from  our  lines. 

MARGOT. 
Saint  Peter's  help  !— 

GURTH. 

Silence,  audacious  priest. 
Soldiers  take  away  HUGH  MARGOT. 


1 68  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

ARCHBISHOP  STIGAND. 

Thus  Rome,  allied  with  William,  lends  its  strength 
To  the  invader's  arm ;  but  Rome  is  not  the  church. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

That  is,  or  not,  as  William  wins  or  fails : 
He  is  the  new  apostle,  with  whose  sword 
May  yet  be  writ  the  mandates  of  the  church. 

KING  HAROLD. 

They  tell  me,  bishops,  in  the  Norman  host 
Odo,  the  Bishop  of  Bayeux,  in  mail 
Will  lead  Duke  William's  iron  cavalry ; 
What  say  you:  may  we  strike  a  bishop's  helm? 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 
Yes,  when  the  helmet  hides  the  mitred  cap. 

GURTH. 

My  liege,  both  as  a  liegeman  and  a  brother 
I  offer  counsel,  which  I  pray  you  heed  ; 
For  in  my  voice  the  heart  of  England  speaks, 
Your  army  and  your  nation.     Leave  this  field  ; 
Return  to  London  ;  levy  there  fresh  troops 
To  fight,  if  Senlac's  lost,  another  field  ; 
Leave,  my  dear  king,  to-morrow's  fate  with  me. 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  169 

Your  practiced  eye  hath  marked  these  marshaled  lines 
Stretched  far  beyond  our  own.     Who  knows  the  end  ? 
If  Heaven  and  Fate  decree  to-morrow's  sun 
Shall  shine  on  victor  William,  let  that  sun 
Still  gild  the  evening  with  a  ray  of  hope, 
Not  set  on  England,  kingless.     Senlac  lost, 
Around  the  king  will  rally  English  hearts, 
And  Norman  victory  bind  William's  brows 
With  thorny  chaplet,  not  with  England's  crown  ; 
For  still  before  his  march  will  armies  spring, 
As  sprang  to  life  in  Greece  the  dragon's  teeth — 
And  fighting  men  are  England's  dragon's  teeth. 
So  may  you  save  our  land,  whatever  chance 
Falls  on  this  field  of  Senlac ;  but  your  death 
Will  give  our  country  to  the  Norman's  sword; 
Nor  Danish  valor,  nor  our  Saxon  strength, 
Avail  for  aught  but  sacrifice  of  life. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

My  liege,  I  think  your  brother's  counsel  wise ; 
Hazard  not  all  upon  to-morrow's  chance. 

ARCHBISHOP  STIGAND. 
My  counsel  joins  with  Aldred's  and  brave  Gurth's. 

KING  HAROLD. 

No.     Though  there  seems  a  specious  policy 
In  such  advice,  'tis  a  deceitful  seeming. 
H  15 


170  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v, 

Shall  England's  king  be  first  to  fly  the  field, 
Setting  such  base  example  ?     'Twere  enough 
To  throw  disheartenment  upon  our  host ; 
And  every  Saxon  cheek  within  our  lines — 
Yes,  in  all  England  from  the  sea  to  sea — 
Would  burn  with  shame  to  hear  of  such  a  flight. 
Bishops,  when  on  my  head  you  placed  the  crown 
I  swore  my  arm  should  smite  the  invader's  helm  : 
Thus  you  would  have  me  break  another  oath, 
That  men  may  point  at  me  in  holy  scorn, 
And  name  me  the  Oath-breaker — I,  who  sought 
To  add  to  Godwin's  name  a  greater  glory, 
Thus  tarnish  all  the  honors  of  the  past. 
Brave  Gurth,  I  know  the  greatness  of  your  heart, 
How  bravely  you  would  go  to  death  for  me, 
Would  fight  this  battle  against  any  odds — 
It  must  not  be ;  Senlac  to  me  is  fate  : 
So  speak  no  more  of  flight. 

GURTH. 

One  reason  more : 

Harold,  although  your  oath  was  plucked  from  you 
By  shameful  fraud,  yet  it  was  greatly  sworn  ; 
And  on  it  rests  Duke  William's  strongest  claim 
Be/ore  the  world  and  church.     The  church  hath  sent 
Rome's  gonfanon,  Saint  Peter's  priest-blessed  flag, 
Beneath  whose  folds  the  Norman  robber  stands ; 


SCENE  in.]       The  Sons  of  Godwin.  171 

All  this  machinery  of  subtle  Rome 

Were  forceless,  if  arrayed  against  our  land, 

Not  Harold.     Though  in  Heaven's  clear-seeing  view 

His  heart  is  spotless,  yet  in  eyes  of  men, 

Whose  ears  have  been  deceived  by  crafty  tales, 

Our  king  is  branded  with  a  perjury, 

So  stamped  by  the  pontifical  seal  of  Rome. 

KING  HAROLD. 

Still  more  the  reason  that  I  keep  the  field ; 
To  fly  were  to  confess  my  oath  yet  binds, 
And  strengthen  William's  fraud.     Our  cause  is  just : 
For  Saxon  liberty  we  stand  arrayed 
As  stood  three-hundred  at  Thermopylae 
Against  rapacity  and  robber-greed ; 
If  with  the  robber  now  is  joined  the  church, 
Upon  the  church  must  fall  the  deep  disgrace 
Of  such  alliance ;  and  all  honest  hearts 
Are  thus  absolved  from  use  of  ancient  homage. 
The  church  was  made  for  man,  to  lift  his  soul 
By  prayer  and  precept  to  the  light  of  heaven ; 
While  thus  it  elevates,  our  duty,  love 
And  calm  obedience  are  its  rightful  dues ; 
But  when  ambition  mounts  Saint  Peter's  chair 
To  hold  a  temporal  sceptre  over  men, 
Dimming  the  native  light  within  their  souls, 
And  making  superstition  the  false  coin 


172  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

With  which  to  purchase  power  and  luxury, 

Then  doth  a  demon  take  the  apostle's  place, 

And  grin  sardonic  o'er  obedience  blind. 

If  aught  descended  from  our  sires  of  old 

Is  dear,  that  heritage  is  liberty ; 

And  who  would  rob  us  of  our  ancient  rights 

An  enemy,  whatever  garb  he  wear, — 

Whether  he  come  clad  in  the  Norman's  steel, 

Or  with  black  gown,  shorn  head  and  sandaled  foot. 

Enter  GUTHLAC. 
My  faithful  thane,  what  of  Earl  Morkar's  force? 

GUTHLAC. 

It  stays  at  London  still,  for  some  equipments, 
Full  ranks,  for  certain  chiefs,  for  this  and  that. 
I  told  the  Earl  your  need,  urged  instant  march : 
He  put  me  off  a  while ;  but,  when  I  clamored, 
Bade  me  go  forward  and  report  his  march 
Within  three  days. 

KING  HAROLD. 

Within  three  days !    O  Fate, 
Whate'er  thou  hast  for  England,  woe  or  weal, 
Concealed  in  thy  dark  bosom,  shall  be  known 
When  sinks  to-morrow's  sun  ! — We  cannot  wait 
For  tardy  Morkar.     Were  old  Siward  living,       * 
Here  had  he  stood,  and,  ready  at  his  call, 


SCENE  in.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  173 

Around  us  had  been  camped  Northumbria. 

Well,  be  it  as  it  is.     My  friends,  to  rest : 

At  dawn  the  Norman  will  attack  our  lines ; 

Our  plan  of  battle  is  to  hold  these  heights, 

And  keep  compact  and  close  our  firm  array, 

Which,  like  a  wedge,  stretches  along  the  hill. 

We  need  not  fear  the  Norman  cavalry 

While  we  can  keep  our  lines;  I've  fought  in  France, 

And  know  their  horse  will  not  ride  down  the  spears. 

Good-night :  to  which  may  come  a  happy  morrow. 

Exeunt  all  but  the  KING  and  GURTH. 
Gurth,  should  the  Norman  still  delay  attack, 
And  Morkar  come,  the  chance  would  count  for  us. 
No  one,  like  you,  can  urge  his  tardy  steps 
To  quicker  motion ;  you  must  ride  to-night, 
And  bring  this  brother-in-law  of  ours  along; 
I  give  you  but  two  days. 

GURTH. 

Two  days  too  much. 

I  will  not  quit  the  field,  let  Morkar  come 
Or  stay ;  after  to-morrow  is  too  late. 
Brother,  good-night. 

KING  HAROLD. 
Good-night. 

They  clasp  hands,  then  part,  but  turn  again. 
15* 


174  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

GURTH. 

My  brother ! 

KING  HAROLD. 

Brother ! 

They  embrace  tenderly.  Exeunt. 


SCENE  IV.— SENLAC. 

Within  the  English  lines.     Morning. 

Alarums.     Enter  MOLLO,  armed,  and  soldiers. 

MOLLO. 

I  grow  to  greater  valor  every  hour ; 
It  only  needs  the  practice  of  the  field 
To  be  a  hero.     When  the  Normans  charged 
I  felt  a  something  tempting  me  to  run, 
But  shut  my  eyes,  and  manfully  kept  place 
Fast  in  the  ranks :  now,  my  first  tremblings  over, 
And  it  is  said  all  men  feel  fear  at  first, 
I  am  as  brave  as  Arthur.     Practice — practice — 
It  makes  the  hero,  poet,  minstrel,  statesman. 
Though  inclination  did  not  bring  me  here, 
Yet,  being  here,  in  faith  I'll  win  a  garland 
Arrows  fall  about  him. 


SCENE  iv.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  175 

Only  these  flying  arrows  set  me  back. 

If  one  should  hit?  Saint  Cuthbert!  where  were  Mollo? 

Instead  of  garland  I  may  get  an  arrow ; 

I'll  try  make  shift  to  do  without  them  both. 

Loud  cries  and  alarums. 
Lo  !  all  the  Normans  now  have  turned  their  backs — 

To  the  soldiers. 

Down  on  them,  soldiers ;  give  them  hot  pursuit ; 
Come,  friends. 

Cries  of  Holy  Rood,  and  clash  of  arms. 

FIRST  SOLDIER. 
Our  orders  are  to  keep  the  lines. 

MOLLO. 

To  keep  the  lines  !     how  may  we  win  a  battle 
If  we  shall  keep  the  lines? 

SECOND  SOLDIER. 

That's  very  true. 

FIRST  SOLDIER. 

The  time  to  charge  is  when  the  word  is  given  ; 
'Tis  the  young  soldier's  fault  to  be  in  haste : 
I  followed  our  brave  king,  when  he  was  earl, 
Through  the  Welsh  wars,  and  know  the  rules  of  MM  \  !•  e. 


176  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

MOLLO. 

See  how  our  comrades  break  their  ranks,  and  charge ; 
If  we  stay  longer  we  shall  stay  alone. 

SECOND  SOLDIER. 
See  how  they  strike  the  Normans ;  let  us  go. 

FIRST  SOLDIER. 
I  like  not  this ;  and  doubt  it  will  end  well. 

MOLLO. 
We  stay  too  long — cry  Holy  Rood,  and  charge. 

MOLLO   and  soldiers  charge,   crying  England! 
Holy  Rood! 


SCENE  V.— ON  THE  HIGH  GROUND  BEHIND 
THE  FIELD   OF  SENLAC. 

Saxon  women  kneeling  at  a  stone  cross.  On  the  left, 
ARCHBISHOPS  ALDRED  and  STIGAND  and  priests  ; 
on  the  right,  EDITH,  her  face  covered  with  her  black 
nuris  hood. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

The  Saxon  line  no  longer  crowns  the  ridge ; 
I  miss  the  glitter  of  its  shields  and  spears ; 


SCENE  v.]         The  Sons  of  Godwin.  177 

They  have  descended  on  the  Norman  host ; 
Pray  God  they  drive  it  to  the  sea. 

ARCHBISHOP  STIGAND. 

Amen. 
Yet  'twere  a  miracle;  I  dare  not  hope  it. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Although  the  Norman  host  outnumber  ours 
Threefold,  yet  number  is  but  an  element 
In  this  great  problem  of  a  nation's  fate. 

ARCHBISHOP  STIGAND. 

Yonder  is  worked  the  fate  of  men,  not  nations: 
King  Harold  vanquished,  slain,  the  wrath  of  Rome 
Against  the  perjurer  is  quenched  by  death ; 
The  Pope  withdraws  Saint  Peter's  gonfanon ; 
Duke  William  fights  the  ^Etheling's  adherents, 
And  in  the  end  right  vanquisheth  the  wrong : 
The  rightful  king  shall  sit  on  England's  throne. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

Short-sighted  man  !  see  you  no  more  than  this? 
Mark  me :  behind  yon  ridge  that  bars  our  sight 
Rome  fights  for  empire  over  all  the  land  ; 
William  and  Normandy  are  but  the  tools 
4*  M 


i/8  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

Of  an  ambition,  to  the  which  their  own 
Is  a  faint  mimicry.     These  fight  for  self, 
Lucre,  estates,  place,  luxury  and  greed ; 
Rome  fights  for  rule  over  the  human  mind, 
An  intellectual  throne,  on  which  may  sit 
Her  pontiff,  and  direct  the  subject  world 
As  Latin  Jove  upon  Olympus  sat. 
Brother,  the  men  are  playthings  of  the  hour, 
They  rise  and  fall  as  Fortune's  wheel  goes  round ; 
But  o'er  mankind  moves  on  a  larger  wheel, 
Developing  from  embryos  in  the  present — 
Men  and  their  puny  acts — the  future's  fate. 
On  Harold's  helm  sits  Saxon  liberty, 
The  dearest  right  of  man — to  be  a  man — 
Himself  the  pilot  of  his  voyage  of  life. 
Pray  for  it,  priest,  or  live  to  mourn  its  loss. 

Enter  a  priest. 
How  goes  the  field  ? 

PRIEST. 

Alas  !  no  longer  well. 

When  first  the  Norman  stormed  the  English  line, 
Down  went  his  ranks  beneath  the  Saxon  axe, 
And  everywhere  repelled  were  driven  back 
With  much  confusion,  disarray  and  loss ; 
Again  and  still  again,  with  lines  reformed, 


SCENE  v.]          The  Sons  of  Godwin.  179 

Duke  William  led  them  on,  still  to  recoil 

From  the  long  swing  of  the  great  Saxon  axe; 

But  ever,  bringing  death  upon  their  points, 

Fell  on  our  lines  the  Norman  archers'  shafts. 

As  stinging  wasps  drive  the  slow  ox  to  frenzy, 

So  our  men 

Were  driven  at  last  by  this  fast-falling  death 

To  break  their  ranks,  and  follow  on  the  foe 

As  he  once  more  recoiled. 

A  fatal  charge,  for  which  throughout  the  day 

The  Norman  Duke  had  watched ;  he  gave  the  word ; 

On  came  his  horsemen,  met  our  broken  lines, 

And  rode  them  down.     Then  Gurth  and  Leofwine 

Sought  to  bring  back  this  van  into  the  ranks 

Of  those  who  stayed  fast  by  the  palisades. 

Our  two  brave  Earls  charged  through  the  struggling  mass 

Till  down  before  them  on  the  bloody  field 

Fell  the  great  Duke  and  his  bold  bishop-brother, 

To  whose  quick  rescue  came  a  thousand  knights 

And  sore  beset  the  Earls. 

Then  charged  King  Harold  with  a  chosen  few 

Deep  in  the  mingled  ranks  that  closed  on  him 

As  closes  ocean  on  the  tribute  flood 

A  rapid  river  gives  the  gulping  sea. 

Upon  the  English  heights  all  hearts  were  hushed 

In  dread  anxiety  to  know  the  fate 


i8o  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

Of  half  the  host  and  their  heroic  king. 

At  length,  by  dint  of  prowess,  from  the  mass 

Of  mingled  combatants  and  flashing  arms, 

As  breaks  the  moon  through  black  and  stormy  clouds, 

Won  back  the  sons  of  Godwin  with  a  part, 

A  little  part,  of  all 

Who  left  their  station  on  the  guarded  heights. 

But  when  I  left  the  field  the  Norman  host 

Had  charged  again,  and  on  the  left  broke  through 

The  weakened  lines ;  the  chance  is  now  against  us. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 

How  fares  the  king  ? 

EDITH  presses  forward,  and  lifts  the  hood  from  her 
face  in  great  eagerness  to  hear  the  answer. 

PRIEST. 

King  Harold  fights  on  foot 
In  the  front  rank  where  danger  presseth  most ; 
The  valor  and  the  might  of  his  brave  line 
Show  on  his  kingly  front.     Before  his  axe 
Go  down  the  Normans  as  a  field  of  corn 
Falls  by  the  reaper's  steel ;  no  Norman  knight 
Hath  crossed  his  path  and  come  unharmed  away. 
The  soldiers  catch  an  inspiration  from  him, 
Send  loud  along  their  line  his  battle-cry 


SCENE  vi.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  181 

• 

Of  "  England  !  Holy  Crosse  !"  upon  his  helm 

Glitters  the  golden  circle  of  a  king ; 

The  mark  of  many  arrows,  harmed  by  none, 

He  strides  through  perils  as  his  life  were  charmed, 

And  seems  the  guardian  god  of  England's  realm. 

ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED. 
O  holy  saints,  shield  him  for  England's  sake! 

EDITH,  touching  her  head. 
Alas !  I  cannot  think ;  I  see  and  hear, 
But  in  my  brain  a  roaring  like  the  sea 
That  deafens  thought,  while  something  whispers  me, — 
A  startling,  frighting  whisper,  clearly  heard 
Through  all  the  tumult  of  my  dizzy  head, — 

To-night — to-night — to-night. 

Exeunt. 


SCENE  VI.— THE  BATTLE-FIELD. 

Under  the  kings  standard.  Evening.  Enter  KINO 
HAROLD  and  EARL  GURTH,  meeting;  their  armor 
defaced  and  bloody. 

KING  HAROLD. 

England  is  lost !  O  Gurth,  our  England's  lost ! 
16 


1 82  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

GURTH. 

This  field  of  Senlac  is  not  England,  Harold. 

You  have  done  all  a  valiant  king  can  do 

Giving  the  invader  battle  on  the  shore  ; 

Duty  now  calls  you  to  collect  again 

The  men  of  England ;  let  each  rising  ground, 

Each  river-bank,  be  made  a  battle-field, 

On  which  the  Norman  must  fight  o'er  this  day. 

KING  HAROLD. 

It  is  in  vain.     At  me  misfortune  points. 
All  England  bears  calamity  for  me ; 
Takes  it  at  second-hand  because  of  me. 
All  I  have  left  to  give  my  country  now 
Is  the  example  of  a  kingly  death ; 
That  service  Fate  is  powerless  to  prevent. 
From  hollow  skulls  the  pitiless  saints  mock  at  me, 
While  by  their  fleshless  arms  is  England  scourged, 
Aiming  at  me.     I  can  at  least  end  this ; 
By  death  at  once  avert  from  my  dear  land 
Their  angry  blows.     I  owe  my  country  this. 

GURTH. 

My  brother  and  my  king,  this  gloomy  day 
Hath  so  disheartened  your  heroic  soul 
Your  wisdom  falters  too. 


SCENE  vi.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  183 

KING  HAROLD. 

What  is  there  left  ? 

This  ri(*ge  of  hill  is  piled  with  Saxons  slain  ; 
England's  brave  sons  were  faithful  even  to  death  : 
Here  lie  the  men  of  Sussex,  Wessex,  Kent, 
Anglia  and  Mercia — all  stout  hearts;  no  foot 
Would  fly,  no  hand  relax  its  grasp  of  sword 
Or  axe — see  how  they  gripe  in  their  dead  hands 
Their  weapons.     Gurth,  I  led  them  to  this  field ; 
I  set  them  here,  the  prey  of  greedy  death ; 
If,  for  I  am  accursed,  these  men  have  died, 
What  frightful  punishment  for  broken  oaths  1 

GURTH. 

This  is  not  so ;  they  fought  as  through  the  past 
Their  sires  have  met  Norwegian,  Celt,  or  Dane, 
Whatever  foe  has  landed  on  our  shores ; 
They  died,  as  died  their  sires,  defending  England. 

KING  HAROLD. 
O  Gurth,  I  am  accursed  ;  they  died  for  me  I 

GURTH. 

No  more  for  you  tnan  for  all  Englishmen. 


1 84  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

KING  HAROLD. 

I  sought  to  serve  thee,  England,  but,  alas  ! 

I  have  destroyed  thee  ! 

So  I  am  guilty,  guiltless  of  this  blood — 

Here's  my  last  stand ; 

Here,  underneath  my  warrior-flag,  I  stay ; 

For,  if  I  cannot  conquer,  I  can  die. 

GURTH. 

A  useless  sacrifice.     The  field  is  lost ; 
Then  husband  life  to  fight  a  fairer  field. 

KING  HAROLD. 

Shall  Tostig  show  more  valor  in  his  end, 
Or  Hardrada,  the  champion  of  the  North, 
Who  paid  the  forfeit  of  defeat  with  death, 
Than  I?     O  Gurth,  'twere  base  in  me,  a  king, 
To  fly  the  field  where  I  have  led  to  death 
The  bravest  and  the  best  of  all  the  land. 
How  could  I  meet  our  mother,  leaving  here 
On  this  sad  field  my  brother  Leofwine, 
His  smiling  brow  defaced  by  bloody  death  ? 
No— no ;  the  only  kingly  act  now  left, 
The  fitting  end  of  my  disastrous  reign, 
Brave  death ;  so  will  a  golden  lustre  gild 
Through  black  calamities  my  fatal  crown, 


SCENE  vi.]        The  Sons  of  Godwin.  185 

To  your  brave  conduct  I  bequeath  the  war ; 

No  frowning  saints  will  mutter  round  your  head ; 

Your  hands  are  clean  and  strong — dear  Gurth,  farewell. 

GURTH. 
I  am  enamored  too  of  glorious  Death. 

KING  HAROLD. 

Both  as  your  king  and  as  your  elder  brother 
I  bid  you  leave  me — for  our  mother's  sake — 
Leave  her  at  least  one  son. 

GURTH. 

When  I  shall  say, 

"I  left  King  Harold  on  the  field  of  Senlac 
To  fight  alone  beneath  his  warrior-flag," 
What  welcome  will  she  give  me  ? 

KING  HAROLD. 

Bravest  of  men  and  faithfulest  of  brothers ! — 
Despair,  make  room  within  my  heart  for  lovej 
A  brother's  love  disputes  the  place  with  you, 
And  gilds  departing  life  with  rosy  tints ! 

KING  HAROLD  and  GURTH  embrace. 
This  soil  of  Sussex  was  our  cradle,  Gurth, 
16* 


1 86  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

And  here  must  be  our  grave;  but  Godwin's  sons 
Shall  live  in  story,  if,  in  Saxon  England, 
Survives  the  legend  of  her  liberty. 
Alarums. 

GURTH. 

Come,  brother,  come, 
And  charge  the  Normans — two  against  a  host. 

KING  HAROLD. 

England  and  Edith,  take  my  last  farewell. 
Ho  !  England  !  England  !  Holy  Crosse  ! 

Alarums. 
KING  HAROLD  and  GURTH  charge. 


SCENE  VII.— THE  BATTLE-FIELD. 

Night.  The  bodies  of  the  slain  lying  under  the  light 
of  the  stars.  Enter  two  priests  with  torches,  and 
EDITH  searching  among  the  corpses  of  the  slain  for 
that  of  KING  HAROLD. 

FIRST  PRIEST. 

Brother,  in  pity  shall  we  still  go  on, 
Or  take  her  hence  ? 


SCENE  VIL]       The  Sons  of  Godwin.  187 

SECOND  PRIEST. 
In  her  insanity 

Perhaps  she  would  not  know  King  Harold's  body 
If  chance  should  bring  her  to  it. 

FIRST  PRIEST. 

I  think  she  would. 

SECOND  PRIEST. 

See  here  what  piles  of  slain ;  here  died  at  bay 
Some  mighty  English  hearts.     How  ghastly  seems 
Death  on  the  battle-field  !  no  glory  gilds 
These  mangled  ones ;  yet  here  perhaps  they  died 
As  gloriously  as  Curtius  when  he  leaped 
Into  the  yawning  chasm.     Here  they  fought  on, 
Hopeless  of  victory  or  saving  life, 
No  eye  to  mark  their  valor,  and  no  tongue 
To  tell  how  gloriously  they  fell — 

EDITH  raises  the  head  of  the  dead  king. 

EDITH. 

Light!  light!— 

'Tis  he  !  'tis  he  !     Mine — mine  at  last ! — mine  now 
And  to  eternity  !     Death,  thou  art  feared 
As  one  who  bringeth  sorrow ;  but  to  me 
Thou  bring'st  a  bridegroom  and  eternal  joy  ! 
O  Harold  !— Harold  !—  Harold ! 

EDITH  falls  on  the  body  of  KING  HAROLD. 


1 88  The  Sons  of  Godwin.  [ACT  v. 

FIRST  PRIEST. 
Unloose  her  hands — I  think  it  is  the  king. 

SECOND  PRIEST. 
'Tis  he  indeed. 

They  unclasp  EDITH'S  arms  from  the  dead  king, 
and  raise  her  up. 
She  faints. 

FIRST  PRIEST. 

She's  dead. 

SECOND  PRIEST. 

So  soon  ? 
God  give  her  poor,  crazed  mind  the  sweet  of  rest. 

FIRST*  PRIEST. 

Amen. 

Tableau. 


THE   END. 


[*•» 


